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WATTT & CO. 


THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO • DALLAS 
ATLANTA • SAN FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN & CO., Limited 

LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. 

TORONTO 














WATTT & CO 


BY 

EDWARD HALL PUTNAM 


lark 

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
1919 


All rights reserved 



Copyright, igig 

By the MACMILLAN COMPANY 


Set up and electrot)T>cd. Published September, igig 


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Dediceiteci to 

PG.B. 

1919 


Cookie won’t make his own notes about the pictures be- 
cause he says they speak for themselves. Lanky thinks that 
pictures should be seen and not heard, and that most of 
Cookie’s pictures should not even be seen. Consequently I 
took the descriptions upon myself. 

This picture shows our island, and though the sketch is 
somewhat off in scale it gives a pretty good idea. The woods 
are a little heavier in reality, and the house more substantial. 

Cookie tells me that the things floating in the air that look 
like a cross between a peanut and a Zeppelin, are clouds. 

Watty. 


WATTY & CO. 



WJTTr CO. 


Chapter I 

T he sun, according to its daily custom, arose 
bright and early on the morning of July 7th, 
a very few years ago. Off the coast of Maine it 
came up apparently right out of the ocean, climbed 
steadily over the horizon, seemed to cling to the 
surface a moment, and then cleared the horizon 
with a little jump. 

The light streamed over the pine woods on the 
eastern side of Watson’s Island, found a little 
cabin beyond the trees, and sent a long, bright 
shaft of light through the small, open window just 
under the roof. 

The ray fell directly on the face of Watty, who 
opened one eye slowly, then the other, blinked 


2 Watty & Co. 

twice, turned over, and gazed at his two compan- 
ions on the other side of the room. Cookie’s 
freckles looked surprisingly dark against the white 
pillow, and Lanky had as usual kicked out the 
bedclothes from the foot of his bed, and at the 
sight of his two bare, brown feet Watty chuckled. 
They were not small feet, but that was not to be 
wondered at for they had to support six feet of a 
very active body. 

Watty crawled quietly out of bed and then 
suddenly gave a wild whoop. Cookie and Lanky 
rose bodily from their beds with simultaneous 
leaps. “Chapel in five minutes!” yelled Watty 
according to his school custom, and he dashed 
down the steep stairway in three jumps, flung 
open the front door and raced madly for the little 
wharf at the water’s edge. 

Pajamas were flung off on the way, Watty in 
the lead. Cookie and Lanky running neck and neck. 
Reaching t^e wharf Watty did not pause, but 



Aboard the good ship Pumpkin seed 
I used my pedal power, 

While Lanky ridiculed my speed 
As just two feet an hour. 

Watty. 




4 Watty & Co. 

continued his flight and at the end took a flying 
leap into the air, straightened his body, extended 
his arms and made a beautiful dive with scarcely 
a splash. Cookie swerved to the left and Lanky 
to the right and each dove diagonally before Watty 
appeared above the surface. 

They all rose together, turned and made for 
the shore, still racing rapidly with long overhand 
strokes. In a moment they were back at the 
house rubbing themselves vigorously with coarse 
heavy towels. 

Shortly afterward, clothed in white duck sailor 
suits, — ^which were regulation on the island, and 
mighty comfortable, too, — they were all busy. 
Cookie was singing in the kitchen and clattering 
the dishes. Lanky was splitting wood outside and 
whistling. Watty, down at the wharf, climbed 
into a small boat, about the shape of a pumpkin 
seed and not a great deal larger, sat down in the 
stern, hung his bare feet over the rail, and using 


Watty & Co. 5 

them as twin screws leisurely kicked his way out to 
the Skiddadler. The Skiddadler was a twenty- 
one foot knockabout and the pride of Watty’s 
heart. She was anchored fifteen yards from shore. 
He could have rowed, but the cool water felt good 
swishing around his feet, and, besides, he always 
did it that way; “pedal propulsion,” he called it. 

He had just finished washing down the already 
spotless deck of the Skiddadler, hauled down the 
nighthawk from the masthead, hoisted the private 
signal in its place and raised the yacht ensign in 
the stern, when Cookie hailed, “Come and get 
it!” and loudly beat a frying pan with a cooking 
spoon. Watty paused a moment, thought of 
raising the owner-absent pennant to amuse the 
other two (who considered him too particular a 
yachtsman, anyway) decided he was too hungry, 
tumbled into the pumpkin seed, seized the oars 
as the quickest means to breakfast, and rowed 
lustily to the dock. 


6 Watty & Co. 

“Be moderate, Cookie’’ Lanky was saying, 
“I don’t believe I need more than ten or twelve 
eggs this morning, if we are going to have buck- 
wheat cakes, too.” 

Cookie broke the last egg in the pan and scram- 
bled it deftly. He looked at Lanky solicitously 
and shook his head. 

“Poor boy, losing his appetite; better see a 
doctor. Lanky.” 

“Never mind him,” said Watty, “Lanky is 
healthy enough.” 

“Have to be to live with you two,” growled 
Lanky. “What are we going to do to-day?” he 
added. 

Cookie posed dramatically, holding the griddle- 
cake turner as a scepter. “Fellow citizens, are we 
here to starve?” he demanded. 

“NO!” shouted the others in unison, 
helping themselves generously to scrambled 


eggs. 


fVatty & Co. 7 

“There are but three ways to prevent it; get 
food.” 

“Simple enough,” said Watty, “but that’s only 
one way.” 

“Another way is to eat it,” suggested Lanky. 

Cookie regarded them severely. “I said three 
ways. Lanky!” 

“Aye, aye, my lord.” 

“Thou shalt search the briny depths for the 
elusive crustaceans, in short,” said Cookie with a 
sudden descent from the throne, “pull our lobster 
pots, and if the fishermen from the Point have 
not robbed us you ought to find some lobsters. 
Watty!” 

“Aye, aye, sir!” 

Cookie rose again in a flight of eloquence. 
“Thou shalt spread the white wings of thy stately 
ship, Skiddadler, and hie thee to the Point, get 
thee eggs, a beefsteak, and sundry — ah, sundries, 
a list of which I have here prepared.” 


8 Watty & Co. 

‘‘And you, my lord?” inquired Lanky. 

“I,” said Cookie, “shall hold the house for my 
seafaring friends. Mayhap I shall bask in the sun, 
a book of lovely verses in my lily white fingers, 
and incidentally fish for cunners.” 

“And will my lord deign to clean the cunners?” 
asked Lanky. “’Twere e’en a puttering job for 
thy fair hands, my lord.” 

“Have I no vassals, sirrah!” replied Cookie, 
but his tone lacked conviction, for it was under- 
stood among the three that the one who fished 
should prepare the fish. 


Chapter II 


W atson’s Island was so called because 
Watty’s father, Thaddeus C. Watson, of 
New York, had ‘‘discovered” it while cruising 
along the Maine coast in 1882. It was high and 
rocky and heavily wooded with pine trees. Its 
chief charm to the yachtsman was the landlocked 
basin it contained which made a perfectly safe 
harbor in any weather. Furthermore, there was a 
bubbling spring of clear fresh water. Mr. Watson 
decided that the island would be an ideal spot for a 
summer home, and accordingly he sought out the 
owner, a local fisherman, and bought it at what he 
considered a remarkably low figure, and the fish- 
erman considered remarkably high. The next year 
he built a small but comfortable house and a wharf. 

This all happened before Mr. Watson married, 
and though he and Mrs. Watson spent several 
9 


lo Watty & Co. 

vacations on the island, it was found later to be 
too small and too remote for a family containing 
four small children. 

Watty was the eldest of the children. Thad- 
deus C Watson, Jr., was his real name, but at 
Phillips Exeter Academy he was never known by 
any other name than Watty. 

It was at Exeter that the firm friendship of 
Watty, Lanky and Cookie had started. Lanky’s 
real name was William R. Thompson, called Lanky 
because he was tall and lean. Cookie was really 
Thomas Cook, 2nd. 

At school someone said they were as close friends 
as Damon and Pythias, and as there were three of 
them they were frequently called the Damon 
Twins and Pythias. Sometimes on account of 
their athletic prowess they were called the Tri- 
umphant Triumvirate. 

During the past year, the three had roomed to- 
gether and they liked it so well that they decided 


that the summer vacation should be spent to- 
gether, on the island for preference, and as they 
were all experienced sailors their families had no 
objections with one exception. 

All three were taking the preliminary examina- 
tions for Yale, and Lanky’s father said that if 
Lanky failed in anything he would have to stay 
at home and be tutored. That carried momentary 
dismay to the three, but Cookie and Watty laid 
hands upon Lanky, forced him to study, and 
pushed and prodded him with the result that he 
passed everything with flying colors. 

Consequently, early July found them comfort- 
ably settled on the island. Watty’s knockabout, 
the Skiddadler, was in the harbor, and Lanky’s 
trim little eighteen foot sailing dory, called the Dot, 
after his small sister, swung on a hauloff from the 
end of the dock. The Skiddadler’s pumpkin-seed 
dinghy and a twelve foot rowing dory completed 
what Cookie called the “Armada.” 


12 Watty & Co. 

The whole ocean lay outside of the island, and 
on the shoreward side, three miles across the bay, 
was ‘‘The Point,” a summer settlement on the 
mainland, where the boys got their supplies and 
their mail. 

There were two hotels at the Point, and about 
twenty-five summer cottages. All were full during 
July and August and half of September. 


Chapter III 


EN breakfast was over Watty said to 



Cookie seriously, ‘‘I actually am worried 


about Lanky, Cookie. Did you notice that he 
only ate nine buckwheats i The poor boy is starv- 
ing before our eyes.” 

“It was more than nine, Watty,” answered 
Cookie. “I am more afraid he will sink the Dot 
than that he will starve.” 

“Yes,” said Lanky, in a pleasant, common- 
place sort of way, “your buckwheats do make 
lead seem as light as a feather,” and he departed 
hastily for the safety of the open sea. 

As he started off in the Dot he hailed, “Hello 
the house!” 

“On board the Dot!” replied Watty. 

“Ask Cookie whether he baited the lobster pots 
with sculpins or cunners,” called Lanky. 


1 4 Watty & Co. 

Cookie seized the megaphone. “I baited ’em 
with BUCKWHEAT’S,” he yelled, “all lobsters 
like ’em!” 

Lanky grinned. “It was probably cunners,” 
he thought, “for you can’t get sculpins anywhere 
but on the sand flats,” and he gave his attention 
to tacking out of the narrow channel into the bay. 

The subject of the lobsters was a sore point with 
the three. They had bought six pots from Luther 
White, at the Point, an old fisherman who was 
too crippled with rheumatism to work any longer, 
and was very poor. They had paid well for the 
traps and had secretly intended to give most of 
their lobsters to White so that he could make 
some money by selling them to the summer cot- 
tagers. Every day they had examined the pots 
but they had only found one “short” lobster, under 
the size the law required, so they had to throw it 
back. 

They began to suspect that their traps were being 


JVatty & Co. 15 

robbed by some dishonest fisherman, and this 
suspicion had prompted Lanky’s question about 
bait. If the bait had been changed from a cunner 
to a different kind of fish they would at least know 
what was the matter. 

Consequently, Lanky approached the first buoy 
with interest. He rounded to the leeward of the 
floating block of wood and shot into the wind. 
Going amidships he caught the buoy as it came 
rubbing along the side and pulled in the eight- 
fathom line. A glance at the lobster pot showed 
that it was empty and also that it was still baited 
with a cunner. The only suspicious circumstance 
was that the bait seemed to be fresh. 

‘‘Interesting but not conclusive,” thought Lanky 
and he dropped the pot back into the water and 
let the dory’s head fall off until the sails caught the 
wind again. 

The same conditions existed in the next three 
pots Lanky visited, and then he rounded the point 


1 6 Watty & Co. 

of the island to examine the last two. As he 
cleared the land he noticed a red dory evidently a 
fisherman’s, but as there were several lines of 
variously owned lobster pots in that locality the 
circumstance did not excite his curiosity. 

‘‘Must be a pretty poor fisherman,” thought 
Lanky, for instead of the usual gasolene engine 
most fishermen used, the red dory was sailing 
under one old spritsail. As he watched, the fishing 
dory came into the wind and the fisherman leaned 
over, seized a buoy and began pulling in the line. 

“Great Scott!” said Lanky, “that’s one of our 
pots as sure as I’m alive. I’ve caught him red- 
handed!” and he trimmed in his sheet to sail 
directly for the other boat. 

Already he was pretty close and he was just about 
to call out when a better thought occurred to him. 
The wind was light and the Dot made scarcely a 
sound. The fisherman was standing on a thwart 
of his boat amidships, balancing the lobster pot 


Watty & Co. 17 

on the gunwale. His back was toward Lanky, 
and Lanky saw him take out three lobsters and 
rebait the pot. Just as he was leaning over to 
drop the pot overboard the bow of the Dot struck 
the stern of the other dory with a resounding 
thump. 

With one tremendous splash, lobster pot and 
fisherman fell over the rail and disappeared from 
view. 

For a moment Lanky was alarmed for he had 
not intended to send the fisherman overboard, 
and he knew that most fisherman — surprising as 
the fact is — cannot swim. He was immediately 
reassured, however, for the fisherman came up 
sputtering and choking, and with a few frantic 
strokes clutched the rail of his boat and began to 
clamber aboard. 

Lanky was a few yards away by this time, and 
felt a little sorry that his plan had gone so far 
beyond his expectations. 


i8 Watty & Co. 

‘‘I didn’t mean to send you overboard,” he 
began, ‘‘but you know you really ought not to 
steal our — ” but here he caught sight of the 
fisherman’s face, convulsed with rage and dripping 
wet. The sight was too much; Lanky yelled with 
laughter and almost fell overboard himself. 

With an inarticulate bellow of rage the fisher- 
man seized the first thing he could lay his hands on, 
it happened to be a lobster, and threw it with all 
his force at Lanky. It hit the sail and dropped 
flapping into the Dot. Another one met the same 
fate. 

“Thanks,” gasped Lanky, “they will do nicely 
for supper; have you any more.^” 

But a lobster is not to be trifled with and the 
fisherman was blind with wrath. The next lobster 
grabbed him before he could grab it, and with a 
howl of pain he danced around in his boat until 
the lobster let go of his finger and dropped into the 


water. 



When Lanky saw the Frenchman’s act 
His soul was filled with wrath, 

He rammed the pirate with a whack 
And gave Pierre a bath! 

And when the Frenchman climbed aboard 
He straight began to swear, 

While Lanky he with laughter roared 
And lobsters filled the air. 


Watty. 


20 fVatty & Co. 

This set Lanky off Into another spasm, and he 
sheered off and started for the last pot to be visited. 

The fisherman shook his fist and shouted some- 
thing unintelligible, but knowing he had no chance 
in his heavy dory to catch the Dot, he headed for 
the Point, every now and then turning to shake 
his fist and shout until he was out of hearing. 

Lanky had hopes that the last pot had not been 
robbed and was delighted to find two lobsters 
well over the size prescribed by law. He opened 
the door, and grasped them in turn on the back 
just behind the claws and dropped them in the 
bottom of the boat where they quickly scuttled 
under the stern seat. He rebaited the pot, eased 
off the sheet and started for home. 

The wind had changed to the east and, glancing 
seaward. Lanky saw a low bank of fog, too far off 
to bother him, but he registered a mental note to 
get a compass at the first opportunity and keep 
it always on board. 


Watty & Co. 21 

As he rounded the point of the island he saw 
the Skiddadler sailing slowly out of the channel, 
and Watty hailed him through a megaphone, 
‘‘Any luck?” 

Lanky waved his arm vertically up and down, 
the universal sea language meaning “Yes.” 

“How many?” inquired Watty. 

Lanky waved four times. 

“Snappy work!” called Watty, and the Skid- 
dadler cleared the island, caught the sea wind, 
heeled to it easily and started on her course to the 
Point. 

“Some good-looking boat,” thought Lanky, 
gazing after her. 


Chapter IV 


W ATTY was always happiest at the helm of 
the Skiddadler, especially in a fresh sea 
breeze that brought a good swell with it. He loved 
the feel of the boat as it rose on a wave, and the 
tug of the tiller as the boat surged forward. 

He was too weatherwise a sailor not to know 
that there was a fog coming in, but he always had a 
compass and he knew the water in that locality 
like a book. Fog did not trouble him so long as 
the wind held. If the wind died out completely 
he just dropped his anchor where he was and made 
himself comfortable in the cabin until it came up 
again, or the fog cleared. It was always safer to 
stay in one place and know where you were, than 
to drift aimlessly with the tide. 

However, Watty knew that the wind was not 
likely to die out before dark, anyway, and he 


22 


JVatty & Co. 23 

did not care much if it did, so he was perfectly 
happy. 

There was a small harbor just around the Point 
and Watty rounded to near the Ocean House dock. 
Casting off the jib halliard he pulled the downhaul 
and the jib came rattling and flapping down. 
Running forward as the Skiddadler lost headway 
he dropped his anchor in three fathoms of water. 
He slacked away the peak halliard of the mainsail 
but did not lower the sail as he knew the boat would 
lie to safely with a dropped peak. 

Then he went below and changed to shore togs, 
white flannel trousers and gray flannel coat. He 
never wore a hat and his face was a ruddy tan 
under his crisp ‘‘golden locks,” as Cookie called 
them. 

As he dropped into the pumpkin seed and rowed 
toward the dock he saw a small boat leaving it 
with a fellow about his own age at the oars, and a 
lady and a girl, evidently mother and daughter. 


24 


Watty & Co. 

as passengers. All three regarded the Skiddadler 
with interest and Watty looked at the oarsman 
with amazement. He wore a stiff straw hat, just 
the kind to blow off, with a gaudy band, a starched 
collar, blue coat, and most wonderful of all — yellow 
chamois gloves! He was no boatman; his oars 
waved high in the air at every return stroke, and 
as Watty watched he caught an awkward crab. 
Watty could hear him apologize courteously and 
humorously. 

At the Post Office Watty found a letter from a 
classmate, Sam Hardy, who addressed him as 
Damon and inquired for his twin and Pythias. 
‘H have a bully tutor,” the letter said, “and I hope 
to come back to school without any conditions 
and Pm going to tackle the Yale prelims again in 
the fall. 

“If you ever leave your wild and woolly island,” 
continued the letter, “I wish you would look up 
my mother and sister at the Ocean House. I have 


Watty & Co. 25 

trained them both well; mother is no end of a good 
sport and Georgina is a better fellow than many of 
our gallant classmates.” Watty grinned, and de- 
cided to ask for them when he went to the Ocean 
House for lunch. 

On his way there he noticed that the fog was 
coming in rapidly, and that already he could 
scarcely see the island. 

Mr. Brown, the clerk at the hotel, told him that 
Mrs. Hardy was out. ‘‘Out in a boat,” he added, 
“with a very well-dressed young man. Much 
better dressed than you are,” said the clerk, and 
they both laughed, for Watty and Mr. Brown were 
old friends. 

“Pretty straw hat,” sighed the clerk, in mock 
admiration, “and oh, such nice yellow gloves; 
just the things for boating.” 

“I hope they are not lost in the fog, Mr. Brown,” 
said Watty. 

“Well, I guess we could see those gloves a long 


26 Watty & Co. 

way,” replied the clerk, ‘‘but, do you know, except 
for his clothes, Wallace B. Thayer, Jr., of Chicago, 
seems to be a mighty good chap.” 

“Looks that way,” said Watty. “How about 
lunch .^” 

“Lunch!” exclaimed Mr. Brown, “you said 
something,” and his eyes twinkled. “Nightin- 
gales’ tongues on toast, nuts on the half shell, pate 
de foie gras, tortillas, frijoles and boiled potatoes. 
Front! show Mr. Watson to the dais in the Persian 
Garden. Call Nubian slaves to serve his needs!” 
and Watty walked into the perfectly plain hotel 
dining room and was served by a plump waitress, 
who secretly admired his hair, and offered him 
“Apple pie, berry pie or rice pudding” for dessert. 

“Apple pie, berry pie and rice pudding, please,” 
corrected Watty, and got all three. 


Chapter V 


' lunch on the island Lanky was entertain- 



ing Cookie with an account of the morning’s 


adventures. 

‘‘We must ask Watty who the fisherman is,” 
said Cookie thoughtfully. “We don’t want to 
have any disagreeable trouble with the natives up 
here. It’s quite possible that the fisherman thinks 
taking lobsters from summer people is quite a 
legitimate and rather a clever piece of business. 
Just as you saw no harm in stealing apples at Ex- 
eter,” he concluded gravely. 

“I never stole ap — !” exclaimed Lanky indig- 
nantly, and then saw the broad grin on Cookie’s 
face. 

“Got a rise!” said Cookie, “and speaking of 
rises,” he went on, “it is time to rise from the 
table. To work, my brave compatriot! Let not 


27 


28 


Watty & Co. 

the sun go down on the worthy fisher’s wrath e’er 
the green of the lobster coat turns to a beautiful 
red! Methinks, my lovely maid,” and he gave 
Lanky’s broad and thoroughly masculine shoulder 
a resounding blow by way of a love tap, ‘‘that 
creamed on toast at supper time — ” 

“Thou hast said enough,” said Lanky. “Fare- 
well, I go,” and he took a large iron pot to the 
beach by the wharf where he filled it with salt 
water. Soon it was boiling merrily over a drift- 
wood fire. 

Cookie went to the woodshed where several 
long bamboo fishing poles were standing in the 
corner, and taking one he started for the western 
point of the island, for he had neglected to fish 
in the morning on account of the housework. 

“Hello,” he said, “it’s misting rather thickly,” 
by which he meant that the fog had come in. 

He broke the shell of a small snail with his heel, 
baited his hook and dropped it in. Almost im- 


Watty & Co. 29 

mediately there was a tug and a wriggle and a fair 
sized cunner was landed and put in a small pool 
in the rocks. ‘‘Stay there until I want you,” ad- 
monished Cookie. Before long five more, cunners 
joined the first. “That’s about enough,” thought 
Cookie. Then he paused a moment. “Now I 
wonder if there is a tautogue in there that would 
like to come ashore,” he said. “I believe I’ll 
drop him a line by way of invitation.” 

He searched among the puddles until he found 
a small crab for bait. He cast as far as he could 
and drew the line slowly ashore. On the sixth 
cast he felt a weight at the end of the line. 
“Caught in the seaweed,” he muttered. But sud- 
denly there was a tremendous pull at the line, a 
foaming swirl in the water and a large black fish 
jumped clear. 

“Great Scott! eight pounds if an ounce,” he 
cried. “I can never play him without a reel. 
I’ll have to trust to brute force.” Fortunately 


3 ° Watty & Co. 

the line was new and strong. Before the fight was 
over Cookie was waist deep in the water shiver- 
ing with cold and excitement, but gradually the 
tautogue began to tire and its struggles grew 
weaker and weaker. Cookie dropped the pole and 
cautiously drew in the line hand over hand; he did 
not dare to lift the fish in the air. Slowly it was 
drawn nearer and nearer and finally Cookie 
plunged one hand in, got two fingers under the 
tautogue’s gills, lifted it, gripping tight with both 
hands, and gave a great sigh of relief. ‘‘My eye, 
what luck!” he said aloud. 

“Ra^A<fr!” said a voice from the water. 

Cookie started with amazement and almost 
dropped the fish. 

In his excitement he had not noticed a small 
rowboat that appeared slowly out of the fog. He 
almost started again when he saw the straw hat, 
the yellow gloves and the two passengers. 

“Oh, please,” asked the young girl, “what 



And Cookie stood there in a daze 
Close holding his tautogue, 

When Wallace loomed up through the haze 
And hailed him through the fog. 

The fog had clogged up Cookie’s brain; 

He wasn’t thinking clearly 
To let them lose themselves again — 

He kicked himself severely. 

Watty. 


32 Watty & Co. 

kind of a fish is that?” She was round-eyed 
with wonder. 

‘‘A tautogue,” replied Cookie, and he started 
to take off his hat politely, but suddenly re- 
membered that he had none on. 

‘‘Regular whale,” said the boy who had spoken 
first. 

“Pretty good,” assented Cookie, “a little over 
eight pounds I should say. But excuse me; 
aren’t you off your course?” 

“I guess I am, though I thought I was going 
straight,” replied the other. “If you can tell 
me how many blocks it is to the Point and which 
turns to take, I shall be much obliged!” 

Cookie grinned appreciatively. ‘‘Just follow 
Fifth Avenue due north until you get there,” 
he said. “It’s about half a point west of north, 
to be exact, but allowing for the tide due north 
would be about right.” 

“Sorry,” said the stranger, “but I’m from the 


Watty & Co. 33 

country, Chicago in fact. Is this Fifth Avenue?” 
and he pointed due west. 

Cookie corrected him. ‘‘No, that’s Forty- 
Second Street. The Point is right over there. 
Keep what wind there is on your starboard quarter 
and you will be all right.” Cookie indicated 
the right direction and, after thanking him po- 
litely, the stranger rowed off. 

Cookie watched until the boat disappeared 
in the fog; when a feeble struggle by the tau- 
togue awoke him to the fact that he was still waist 
deep in the water and had been during the inter- 
view. He rescued the fish pole and waded ashore. 

Stringing the cunners and the tautogue he 
started home. “Great Scott!” he said, “I am 
a Galoola! I certainly should not have let them 
go off in this fog. I could tell by the way he 
rowed that he didn’t know anything about boats, 
and I doubt if he knows the starboard quarter 
from — from a twenty-five cent quarter. The 


34 fVatty & Co. 

wind is going down, anyway, and he will pull 
harder with his right hand and row around in a 
complete circle. He may strike the island again 
and he may row out to sea ! If it had not been so 
unexpected I might have had a little more sense.” 

At the house he found Lanky in the kitchen 
looking rather sheepish and apologetic. A cook- 
book was open on the table. ‘H know this isn’t 
my week to cook. Cookie,” said Lanky, ‘‘but 
I boiled the lobsters, you know, and then some- 
thing happened inside of me. I felt that I just 
must have some gingerbread. I don’t know why, 
but I was sure that if I did not have ginger- 
bread for supper to-night something awful would 
happen.” 

“Huh,” said Cookie grimly, “something awful 
is more apt to happen inside of you if you do have 
it, unless you have improved in your cooking.” 
He opened the oven door. “Looks all right,” 
he said, “and it even smells all right,” he added 


Watty & Co. 35 

graciously. ‘‘You certainly made enough and, if 
we survive it, I may have the heart to forgive you.” 

“Did you catch any cunners?” asked Lanky. 

“Just outside the door,” said Cookie. 

Lanky started to get them. “To-morrow I 
am going to catch a tautogue, the first of the 
season, and the largest that’s ever been — for 
the love of Pete, Maggie, pass the beets!” he 
exclaimed when he saw the string of fish. “That’s 
the very one I was going to catch. Do you think 
that was polite of you. Cookie? How did you 
catch him?” 

“I put salt water on his tail,” replied Cookie 
gravely, “but never mind. Lanky, I’ll let you 
clean him. Let’s see how much he weighs.” 

Lanky took down the scales. “Nine and one 
quarter! Some fish! I’ve seen them bigger at 
Wood’s Hole, but that’s not the Maine coast. 
Izaak Walton, your hand! Welcome to our city, 
and I will clean him for you, also the cunners!” 


36 Watty & Co. 

“Ah, that is praise indeed, Lanky, particu- 
larly the last part. Believe me, son, I am touched, 
affected, moved — ” but suddenly Cookie gave 
a wild yell, leaped to the stove and threw open 
the oven door. A small cloud of smoke rolled 
forth. He seized the pan of gingerbread. “Just 
in time. Lanky, only one corner scorched.” 

Lanky, who had turned almost as pale as his 
tan would permit, sighed with relief, and started 
on the fish. 

“What’s for supper.^” he asked as he was fin- 
ishing. 

“Creamed potatoes, creamed lobster on toast 
and gingerbread slightly burnt a la Lanky,” 
replied Cookie. 

“Well, ril try to make it do. Cookie. I won’t 
deny that the gingerbread appeals to me, but 
as for the other things! Well, it’s not what I 
am accustomed to at school!” 

should say it wasn’t!” exclaimed Cookie. 


Watty & Co 37 

‘‘Hello” he added, “it’s beginning to get dark; 
you had better take the fog bell out to the point.” 

“For friendship’s sake, I shall dare the ele- 
ments ! ” Lanky took the bell. “ Picture me, stand- 
ing gallantly on the cliff. The seafaring mariner, 
meaning Watty, will hear the clear call of the 
bell, and come sailing home to his anxious wife 
and children, meaning you for the children and 
me for the wife,” and Lanky departed for the 
mouth of the channel. 


Chapter VI 


W ATTY left the hotel immediately after 
lunch, bought the supplies Cookie wanted, 
boarded the Skiddadler and got under weigh. 

The fog was thick and the breeze was very 
light from the southeast, meaning a long beat to 
windward back to the island; but as a matter of 
fact Watty rather enjoyed the prospect. The 
binnacle containing the compass was right in 
front of him and by taking a series of long legs 
on the port tack, and short ones on the star- 
board, he knew he was sure to strike the island 
in time for supper if the wind held. 

He put on his red football sweater with the 
black “E’’ and settled himself at the tiller. The 
fog shut him in like a blanket. The only sounds 

were the peevish cries of an occasional seagull 
38 


Watty & Co. 39 

overhead and the slight ripple under the Skid- 
dadler’s bow. Watty started singing. 

Over an hoiir passed, and though he was fairly 
sure that he was too far from the island to be 
heard Watty got out the foghorn and blew his 
signal, one long, two short blasts, and another 
long one. 

To his surprise he heard a faint hail off the 
starboard bow. “Hello!” he called, and a faint 
“Hello” came back. “Anything the matter?” 
cried Watty, using the megaphone this time. 

“I guess we’re lost in the fog,” came the an- 
swer, more distinctly than before. 

“Stay where you are,” hailed Watty, “and 
keep on calling.” He shifted his helm a trifle 
and steered for the sound. The fog was so thick 
he almost ran into a small rowboat before he 
saw it. 

As he had begun to suspect it was the boat 
he had encountered that morning, and he could 


40 Watty & Co. 

not help smiling at the wreck the fog had made 
of the straw hat and the starched collar. 

‘‘Take in your oars,” Watty called, “Fm com- 
ing alongside. Stand by to come aboard.” 
Watty luffed into the wind and came slowly up 
to the small boat. Thayer in the bow grasped 
the Skiddadler’s rail and Watty grasped the gun- 
wale of the rowboat. With one hand he helped 
Mrs. Hardy and then Miss Hardy to climb 
aboard. Then he took the painter, ran it through 
the Skiddadler’s mainsheet traveler and hastily 
threw a bowline knot. Taking the tiller again 
he gave a quick glance at the compass, shifted 
his helm, and then turned with a smile to his 
passengers. 

Mrs. Hardy returned his smile a little anx- 
iously. When she had first heard Watty’s hail 
she had taken it for granted that some experi- 
enced sailor or fisherman had come to their rescue. 
Watty did not look a day over seventeen. 



When I was sailing slow along 
The fog beshrouded sea 
I cheered myself with tuneful song, 

As happy as could be. 

Above the sea gulls sad did wail 
As if bereft of joy, 

When suddenly I heard a hail, 

I shouted, ‘‘Ship ahoy!” 

Then toward the hail I bravely steered 
To save a shipwrecked crew. 

And Wallace waved his hat and cheered 
When I came into view. 


Watty. 


42 Watty & Co. 

Thayer voiced her unspoken que/Stion. “Are 
you lost in the fog, too?” he asked. 

“I don’t believe so,” replied Watty, and smiled 
reassuringly. 

Mrs. Hardy looked relieved. Miss Hardy’s 
eyes were sparkling with excitement; she was 
looking at the “E” on Watty’s sweater. 

Watty turned to her mother. “It’s Mrs. Hardy, 
isn’t it?” he questioned. “Sam is a classmate 
of mine; he told me you were to be here. My 
name is — ” 

“Watty Watson!” cried Georgina excitedly. 
“Oh, I’m sure it is. Oh, please, isn’t it?” 

“Why, Georgina!” remonstrated her mother. 

“Yes, I know, mother, but aren’t you, please?” 
she insisted. 

Watty grinned. “I please,” said he, “you 
win!” 

“I knew it!” cried Georgina delightedly, “I 
was sure of it. Oh, I know all about you, and 


Watty & Co. 43 

I saw you make that beautiful end run for a 
touchdown in the championship game last fall!” 

Wallace stepped forward quickly and extended 
his hand. ‘‘I guess Miss Hardy saw me too, 
then,” he said with a rather rueful smile; ‘‘I was 
running after you; I play on Andover!” 

Watty shook hands heartily. “Well, you had 
me scared to death,” he admitted, “and Fd 
rather meet you in the fog than on the gridiron 
any day!” 

“Boys and girls,” Mrs. Hardy interrupted, 
“here we are lost in the fog and you are all be- 
having as if it was a tea party! Let’s get back 
to earth, only it isn’t earth yet.” She smiled 
and turned to Watty. “Are you really the 
famous Watty Watson.^” she asked, “and do 
you really know where we are.^” 

Watty laughed. “I’ve never been accused of 
fame before, but I think I know where we are. 
I would take you back to the Point, but I am 


44 Watty & Co. 

afraid the wind won’t hold. If you don’t mind 
coming to our island we can row you back later. 
We’ll be there in a few minutes.” 

^‘Indeed, we shall be very glad to come,” re- 
sponded Mrs. Hardy, ‘‘if you don’t mind rescuing 
ladies in distress.” 

“Sort of a Nautical Knight Errant,” suggested 
Thayer. 

“Then we’ll see the rest of the Triumphant 
Tri-tri-triumvirate, Lanky and Cookie.” Geor- 
gina was radiant with pleasure. 

“Well,” began Watty seriously, “I am not 
sure. Miss Hardy. I left them there this morning 
and told them to play nicely together in the 
middle of the island away from the water, but 
there is no telling what they may have done 
while I was away. They may have gone to the 
edge and fallen off. But we shall soon find out. 
Will you all please listen for something that 
sounds like a dinner bell.^” 


Watty & Co. 45 

“A dinner bell!” sighed Georgina, ^‘and I 
haven’t had a thing to eat since breakfast.” 

‘‘We never let visitors escape without taking 
a meal,” said Watty. 

All were quiet for a moment and faintly 
through the fog came the measured strokes of a 
bell, one long, two short strokes, and another 
long one. Watty replied with the foghorn and 
the bell repeated the private signal once more, 
and then began to ring slowly and steadily until 
the island loomed up ahead out of the mist. 
Watty’s course had brought him directly to the 
mouth of the channel. 


Chapter VII 


1 ANKY Stopped ringing when the Skiddadler 
j showed up through the fog. “Hello!” he 
said to himself, “why is she towing another boat 
beside the pumpkin seed.^ Great Scott!” he 
gasped, “Watty has been rescuing beauty in dis- 
tress, two ladies and a man!” and Lanky ran 
to the cabin. 

“Cookie, two ladies and a gentleman,” he cried 
in the kitchen door. 

“All right,” said Cookie calmly, “we have 
enough lobster.” 

Lanky jumped into the rowing dory and went 
out to help Watty furl the sails of the Skiddadler 
and ferry the guests ashore. 

“Mrs. Hardy,” said Watty, “this is Lanky 
Thompson. You need not be afraid of him. 

He’s not at all dangerous.” 

46 


Watty & Co. 47 

Mrs. Hardy smiled, ‘H’m sure he isn’t, and 
I am very glad he didn’t fall off the island.” 

Georgina did not wait for an introduction. 
‘‘You are Lanky Thompson,” she exclaimed, 
“and you play full back! I saw you kick a goal 
from the forty-yard line!” 

“Lanky, I warn you that Miss Hardy knows 
all about us. Your inmost thoughts are no se- 
cret. Brother Sam has given you away. Your 
good reputation is not lost, only because you 
never had one.” Watty’s eyes twinkled. 

Lanky was a little dazed, but Watty’s old 
familiar style of raillery brought him to. “Well, 
at least I have time to make a fresh start, and 
I’ll begin by taking Mrs. and Miss Hardy ashore 
to supper.” He helped the ladies into the dory 
while Watty, unskillfully aided by Thayer, furled 
the Skiddadler’s sails for the night. 

It had been a long and an anxious day for 
Mrs. Hardy. It had been a great relief to her 


4 ^ Watty & Co. 

when Watty came sailing confidently through the 
fog to their rescue, but she could not feel quite 
reassured until they reached dry land once more. 
The whole party was wet from the fog and 
chilled through. 

Lanky threw open the cabin door. A log fire 
was blazing and crackling in the wide stone fire- 
place and the big room was filled with its flicker- 
ing light. Mrs. Hardy sank gratefully into the 
armchair Lanky placed before the fire. This 
was natural and comfortable; a delightful feeling 
of security stole over her. 

“Very tired, Mummy?’’ asked Georgina, paus- 
ing by her mother’s chair and taking her hand. 

“No, dear, but, oh, this fire is good, and I am 
very glad to be safe ashore, in such good care, 
too!” She smiled gratefully at Lanky. 

“It was Watty, really,” said Lanky, “but 
come. Miss Hardy, let’s embarrass Cookie.” 

He opened the door to the kitchen. Cookie 


Watty & Co. 49 

was creaming the lobster at the stove. He was 
quite prepared and, though attired in a long 
white apron, not in the least embarrassed. He 
bowed politely when Lanky introduced him. 

‘‘Oh, it smells so good,’’ cried Georgina. 
“Can’t I help.?” 

Lanky picked up a toaster full of thick slices 
of white bread. “You might try this,” he sug- 
gested. 

Georgina turned to Cookie. “May I? I always 
do it Sunday evenings at home, and I promise 
not to burn it.” 

“Always glad of help,” answered Cookie. 
“Give Miss Hardy an apron. Lanky, and set the 
table.” 

“Must obey the cook’s orders or we get no 
supper,” complained Lanky. 

The boys usually had their meals In the kitchen, 
but Lanky prepared the table in the living 
room near the fire. He could hear Georgina 


so Watty & Co. 

saying to Cookie, Sam tells me you’re the 
best shortstop and quarterback Exeter ever 
had.” 

‘‘She certainly has us all down pat!” thought 
Lanky with a smile. 

When Watty and Wallace Thayer came in 
Cookie announced supper. 

Creamed lobster, creamed potatoes. Lanky’s 
gingerbread, apple sauce and hot tea — the tea 
especially for Mrs. Hardy. 

Mrs. Hardy was truly surprised at how good 
everything was, and she wondered that Cookie 
knew enough to boil the water freshly for the 
tea, and to put really excellent tea in a little 
cheesecloth bag; just as she had always done 
for herself at home. More discreet than her 
daughter, she made no remark. 

“Oh, how good everything is!” exclaimed that 
young lady. “I didn’t know boys could cook so 
well!” 


fVatty & Co. 51 

The boys laughed. ‘‘We’re always glad when 
Cookie has the stove, so to speak,” said Watty. 

“Lanky made the gingerbread,” Cookie added. 

“Hunger’s the best sauce I know,” said Lanky, 
“and I always have plenty of that sauce. Is 
there any toast that isn’t hidden under the lob- 
ster, Cookie?” Thayer passed him the plate. 

“Do you buy your lobsters?” he asked. 

“Tell them. Lanky,” urged Cookie. 

So Lanky told of his morning’s adventure. 

“Was the fisherman big, rather young and 
very dark?” inquired Watty. 

“Yes; very dark and looked like a foreigner.” 

“That was Pierre La Roche. I thought so. He 
is a French Canadian, and has the reputation of 
a hasty temper,” said Watty, “but I don’t think 
he is dishonest, at least according to his own 
standards. He probably argued himself into the 
belief that we didn’t need the lobsters and he 
did. You can easily see that he might think we 


52 Watty & Co. 

were rich city people and fair game for the hard- 
working fisherman.” 

Mrs. Hardy was surprised at this even-tem- 
pered reasoning, rather unusual, she thought, for 
a boy of Watty’s age. 

Just as they finished supper there was a patter 
of raindrops on the roof, immediately succeeded 
by a sharp shower. 

‘‘Now watch Watty open the door and smell 
the wind,” whispered Lanky to Georgina. 

Watty did just that. “Northwest,” he pro- 
claimed. “The fog is lifting already. We can 
sail back, after all.” 

“Did you really smell the wind.^” asked Geor- 
gina. 

Watty laughed. “Yes,” he admitted. “You 
can always tell the difference between a shore 
breeze from the mountains and a salty sea breeze. 
Sometimes you can tell even before the breeze 
arrives. It will blow lightly all night after a 


Watty & Co. 53 

short shower that precipitates the fog, and we 
shall have a good day to-morrow.” 

‘‘All hail, worthy Prophet!” cried Lanky. 

The rain ceased almost as suddenly as it had 
begun. 

“If you really think it will be perfectly safe, 
I think we had better start home soon,” said 
Mrs. Hardy. “Pm sure we can’t thank you 
enough.” 

The boys pulled on heavy sweaters — Georgina 
noticed that each had a big letter “E” — and 
found heavy coats for their three passengers, for 
the night wind was chilly, and soon the Skid- 
dadler was sailing out of the channel, and as 
they cleared the island the moon came out from 
behind the last ragged fragment of cloud and 
drew a silver path across the lightly rippled 
water. The Skiddadler heeled gently on her 
course. 

Georgina sighed, and nestled close to her 


54 fVatty & Co. 

mother. The boys thought she was asleep and 
talked in whispers, but soon she began to sing 
in a clear soprano voice: — 

‘‘Old Exeter, dear to our hearts are the 
shades — ” 

“That thy fair elm trees cast at our feet,” 
Cookie’s clear tenor came down from the 
bow. 

“We would render thee thanks for the hours 
of joy,” sang Watty and Lanky, Watty sup- 
porting the air and Lanky rumbling a deep 
second bass. 

Surprisingly familiar with the words, Wallace 
Thayer joined in with an excellent first bass 
and even Mrs. Hardy hummed a soft con- 
tralto. 

“We have spent in thy peaceful retreat — ” 
they all sang together. 

Right through the song they went, their voices 
floating over the water. 


55 


fVatty & Co. 

‘‘Thy name is a Talisman banishing care 
And setting good fellowship free, 

Old Exeter, here’s to the glad student days 
That have bound us forever to thee!” 

“Splendid!” cried Georgina, clapping her hands. 

Song succeeded song, and all were surprised 
when they rounded to under the lee of the 
Ocean House pier. 

Wallace rowed Mrs. Hardy and Georgina 
ashore and the Skiddadler headed back to the 
island before the fair wind. 

“Good night, good night,” called Georgina. 

“Good night, ladies,” sang the boys across 
the widening water. Then faintly came the 
chorus : 

“Merrily we roll along, o’er the deep blue sea.” 


Chapter VIII 


F or several days life on the island continued 
on its even way. There was plenty to do 
and time passed quickly and pleasantly. 

One morning they started before dawn in the 
Skiddadler on a codfishing expedition. They 
had very good luck; but except for the great 
size of the fish, codfishing does not amount to 
much in the way of sport. As Cookie expressed 
it, ‘‘A codfish comes up like a ton of brick, but 
hasn’t quite as much life.” 

They kept two of the largest fish for their own 
use, and even then, according to Lanky, they 
would have “Codfish steak and fishballs until 
we’ll be ashamed to look an honest cod in the 
eye!” 

However, they knew that old Luther White 

could sell codfish as well as lobster, and they 
S6 


Watty & Co. S7 

had a good many lobsters on hand now; evidently 
Pierre La Roche had mended his ways. Lanky 
decided to sail over in the Dot and see White. 

Watty and Cookie were interested in building 
a platform in the top of the tallest tree on the 
island to serve as a lookout and refused to go 
with him. Lanky was skeptical. 

‘‘What are you going to look out for?’’ he 
wanted to know, “the Spanish Armada or hostile 
Indians?” 

“Spanish mackerel and hostile French Canadi- 
ans,” Watty replied, “if we see La Roche we’ll 
let you know so you can go out and give battle 
in the Dot.” 

“Battle nothing! I’ll give him another bath!” 
said Lanky. 

The lobsters were kept in a “lobster car,” a 
large box partially submerged and kept in the 
water under the wharf. Lanky had an exciting 
time getting the lobsters out and his friends in 


58 Watty & Co. 

the tree top heard sundry wild yells. Eventu- 
ally they were all safely transferred to the Dot 
and Lanky hoisted the sail and started off. As he 
cleared the channel he gave several ear-splitting 
war whoops, evidently acting the part of the 
‘‘hostile Indian.” 

At the Ocean House wharf Lanky found Wal- 
lace Thayer in the familiar straw hat — a new 
one this time — starched collar and yellow gloves. 
He was fishing and as Lanky approached he 
pulled up a diminutive cunner. A small bare- 
footed boy removed it from the hook and re- 
placed the bait. 

“Hello, Thompson,” called Thayer, “Pm sup- 
plying the natives with fish. I’ve already caught 
two. And, by the way, I’m glad to have a chance 
to thank you fellows for saving my life the other 
day. I was in a pretty bad fix; I might easily 
have rowed out to sea if Watson hadn’t hap- 
pened along.” 


59 


Watty & Co. 

“We were mighty glad to be of help,” replied 
Lanky, “though I guess you would have pulled 
through when the fog lifted. Vm supplying the 
natives with fish, too. Want to help.^” he said 
to change the subject. 

“Sure thing.” Thayer jumped up and threw 
a quarter to the boy, telling him to buy a suit 
of clothes and an automobile. The boy looked 
at it with amazement, grinned from ear to ear, 
seized the two cunners and dashed up the wharf 
at top speed. 

Thayer laughed. “Acts as though he thought 
I would take it away. My word, those are real 
fish!” he exclaimed when Lanky threw the cod 
onto the wharf. 

There were twelve lobsters and ten good-sized 
cod and they carried them together to a small 
cottage near the water’s edge. Luther’s grand- 
daughter, a buxom girl of twenty, opened the 
door at their knock. She was fresh-faced and 


6o ffatty & Co. 

pleasant and as neat as the clean but surprisingly 
bare room behind her. 

‘‘Grandfather is back of the house/’ she told 
them, “but I don’t think he is buying anything 
to-day.” She looked at the cod longingly. 

They found Luther sitting in the sun. With 
stiff fingers he was knotting a small net around 
an empty green olive bottle. He sold these to 
the cottagers for twenty-five cents and they made 
interesting if not beautiful hanging vases for 
flowers. 

“Good morning, Mr. White,” said Lanky. 
“Good morning!” he repeated louder, for Luther 
was getting a little deaf. 

Mr. White looked up over his steel-rimmed 
spectacles. “Well, well,” he exclaimed, “it’s 
young Watson’s friend, ain’t it.?” and he held 
out a gnarled hand which Lanky shook carefully, 
knowing that his usual hearty grip would not be 
good for rheumatism. 


Watty & Co. 6 1 

“Right, Mr. White,” continued Lanky, “and 
Watty wanted to know if you could sell some cod 
and lobsters for us — on commission of course — 
I believe ten per cent is the market rates to the 
wholesaler.” Lanky believed nothing of the 
kind, but he knew that a self-respecting New 
Englander like Luther would resent charity. 

The old fisherman peered into the box. “Why, 
boys, you’ve got a pretty mess of fish there. 
Guess there must be ten dollars’ worth — lobsters 
is high this season. Ten per cent seems powerful 
small commission, don’t it.^ That would mean 
one dollar for you and nine for me.” A light 
glistened in the old man’s eye; nine dollars 
would mean a lot to him! 

“Ten per cent is the exact rate,” chimed in 
Thayer, with great decision, for he had sized up 
the situation in a flash. “I was in Boston two 
weeks ago, and that was the last quotation.” His 
imagination went farther than Lanky’s. 


62 Watty & Co. 

‘‘Well, boys, if you say so I’ll be mighty glad 
to — 

A shrill shout interrupted him as a small 
barefooted boy came running into the yard. 
“’Baccy, Grandpa!” he cried, “baccy! baccy! 
where’s your pipe?” he waved a bright red tin 
around his head. “An’ two cunners for lunch, 
an’ fifteen cents left!” He danced excitedly up 
and down, pressing the tobacco tin into the old 
man’s hand. 

“Great guns, sonny, where’d you get all that 
money? You didn’t let anybody give you money, 
son, did you?” Luther fumbled for a battered 
old corncob pipe and looked longingly at the 
tobacco box but did not open it. 

“No, Grandpa, no! Fill your pipe quick! I 
earned it off’n a city man helpin’ him fish.” 

“It’s all right, Mr. White,” said Wallace. 
“Your grandson was of great service to me this 
morning. It was cheap at a quarter.” 





We did our best for Luther White, 
And by a crafty plot 
We kept his corncob pipe alight 
And cheered him up a lot. 

Watty. 


64 Watty & Co. 

‘‘Well, well, that’s fine!” and the old man 
breathed a sigh of relief. “Run and get grandpa 
a match, sonny, it’s a long time since I had a 
good smoke!” 

As the boys walked away they could see him 
blowing out great clouds of smoke, his eyes on the 
box of fish, and a look of beaming happiness on 
his face. 

“Whew!” whistled Thayer, “I feel as though 
I had been to church, not at all as if I had told 
a whacking big lie. Ten per cent!” he laughed 
heartily. 

“Snappy work!” said Lanky, “you’re there 
with the goods, Wallace B. Thayer of Andover, 
blamed if you’re not!” and Lanky grasped the 
yellow glove in a way that proved that 
Thayer at least was not suffering from rheu- 
matism. 

“Thanks,” he replied, and then a bit ruefully, 
“it looks as though my duty as a philanthropist 


Watty & Co. 65 

would compel me to fish with that youngster 
every morning, and my word, but I hate fishing! 
But too poor to buy a ten cent tin of tobacco! 
My word!” 


Chapter IX 


L anky was glad to accept Wallace’s invita- 
i tion to luncheon at the Ocean House and 
found himself at the table with Mrs. Hardy and 
Georgina. 

Georgina was inclined to take him to task 
for neglect. 

“It would have been polite of you,” she said 
“to call on us to see if we had suffered any ill 
effects from our experience the other day.” 

Lanky was all contrition. “I know,” he said 
apologetically, “after that supper and my ginger- 
bread it is a wonder that you survived, but I 
watched Cookie and Watty closely and they 
seemed to — ” 

But Georgina interrupted him with her laugh- 
ter. “It was an awfully good supper, much 
66 


67 


Watty & Co. 

better than we get here, and I want to come 
again.” 

‘‘Why, Georgina,” remonstrated Mrs. Hardy. 
“I know I’m awful, but I do just the same.” 
“All right,” said Wallace, “the next foggy day 
ril take you rowing and — ” 

“Let’s not wait for that,” suggested Lanky. 
“How about day after to-morrow, Mrs. Hardy? 
We’ll sail over for you in the Skiddadler. You 
come too, Wallace.” 

“We shall be very glad to come,” answered 
Mrs. Hardy. “I can’t get any tea here as good 
as Mr. Cook’s, and I should like to know Sam’s 
friends better. Won’t you all come over in the 
morning and lunch with us and we can sail back 
with you afterward?” 

“Bully!” exclaimed Lanky, forgetting his man- 
ners, but he said it so enthusiastically that Mrs. 
Hardy was rather pleased than otherwise. 

Lanky spent a very pleasant hour on the broad 


68 Watty & Co. 

hotel veranda after luncheon with the Hardys 
and Wallace and took his leave at three 
o’clock. 

Wallace walked to the dock with him. As 
they approached, a familiar-looking red dory 
with an old spritsail sailed up to the dock and 
tied up close to the Dot. The boys could see 
Pierre La Roche looking fixedly at Lanky’s 
dory, and then he turned his head quickly, saw 
the boys and clambered onto the dock. 

“Looks like trouble, Wallace,” said Lanky. 
“Guess I can pacify him, or handle him, if I 
have to; you keep out of it.” 

It was clear enough that La Roche meant 
trouble. He advanced threateningly. Lanky 
walked calmly on. 

“Hello, La Roche,” he said good-naturedly. 

“Eh! you know me, eh? Pierre La Roche, who 
you throw zee water in. You t’ink I do nothing 
for dat, eh? Now I t’row you de water in, yes.” 


Watty & Co. 69 

He assumed an attitude of defense and suddenly 
rushed. 

Lanky had been watching him like a cat. 
He was an expert boxer and he parried the first 
blows, side-stepped and ducked. He had often 
sparred with experts for fun, but he realized 
that this was serious and that his opponent would 
not fight fairly. Without giving ground he kept 
shifting his position quickly. He did not want 
to get to close fighting where the Canadian could 
use his knee. He knew how the Canadian lumber- 
jacks fought and he suspected that La Roche 
would fight in the same way. 

La Roche was wiry and tough. He was 
shorter than Lanky but broader. He pressed 
the fight fiercely and Lanky had all he could 
do to keep the blows from landing. Soon the 
blows became wilder; La Roche was losing his 
temper. Lanky could have landed several times 
but held his hand. 


7 ° fVatty & Co. 

Suddenly La Roche fell back a step, dropped 
his hand to his thigh and leaped forward. 

“Watch his knife!” shrieked Wallace and with 
one bound cleared the intervening space and 
seized the Frenchman’s arm. In a moment it 
was wrenched free, but the moment sufficed — 
Lanky struck. 

It was a clean, sharp blow straight from the 
shoulder to the point of the jaw, with Lanky’s 
one hundred and seventy pounds behind it. The 
fisherman’s head snapped back, his hands flew 
up, he staggered backward, stumbled, recovered, 
stumbled again, tripped at the edge of the dock 
and fell backward, insensible, into three fathoms 
of water. 

Breathing heavily Lanky stood at the edge 
waiting for him to reappear. Unperturbed, 
Wallace was standing beside him softly rub- 
bing his left wrist with a yellow-gloved right 
hand, and smiling faintly. A few bubbles 



Too rash and reckless was Pierre, 

As very soon he found 
When he went flying through the air 
And got himself half drowned. 

But Lanky cooled his rising wrath 
And kept his temper down; 

Said he, ‘‘This is his second bath, 
But ril not let him drown!” 

Watty. 


72 fVatty & Co. 

rose from where the Canadian sank; nothing 
else. 

Lanky did not hesitate. He knew that a 
drowning man does not rise and sink three times 
— it all depends upon whether or not there is 
water in the lungs. He would have to dive, and 
dive deep, close to the wharf. 

‘‘Get the rope, Wallace,” he called clearly 
and took a forward “jackknife” dive, straight 
up into the air; turning down and straightening 
his body he entered the water perpendicularly. 

The impetus of his dive did not carry him far 
and he began to swim downward. The pressure 
of the water on his ears was uncomfortable, but 
he did not think of that at the time. Ordinarily 
he could stay under the water a minute without 
trouble, but he had been fairly well winded by 
the fight and it was a question of a few seconds 
now. 

His groping fingers touched sodden cloth. 


Watty & Co. 73 

clutched it; he struggled upward, his lungs 

seemed ready to burst. As his head cleared the 
water a rope struck his face. 

Half blinded as he was it was by mere chance 
that his hand closed around the rope. The rope 
tautened. He hoped it would not be pulled too 
hard, for he couldn’t hold on if it was. Any- 
body with a less cool head than Wallace might 

have jerked it. The rope stayed just where it 
supported Lanky and permitted him to keep 
La Roche’s head out of water. Wallace looked 
over the edge. ‘‘Take it easy, Old Man,” he 
called in a natural voice that was vastly reas- 
suring. “Get your breath and I’ll pull you along 
the dock into shallow water.” 

After a few moments Lanky’s breathing grew 
easier. He took a fresh hold on the rope, wound 
it around his wrist, and nodded his head to show 
he was ready. Wallace began to draw him slowly 
along toward the shore. 


74 Watty & Co. 

As Lanky’s feet touched bottom he looked at 
La Roche and saw that his eyes were open and 
that he was looking around somewhat dazedly. 
Evidently the shock of his fall into the cold 
water had revived him. He staggered as Lanky 
helped him ashore and fell weakly on the 
sand. 

Wallace jumped from the pier and joined 
Lanky. ‘‘Guess he kept his mouth closed,” 
he said, “seems to be coming around all right.” 

The fisherman stirred, sat up and put his 
hand to his head. 

“He’s all right now. Come away,” and Wal- 
lace took Lanky by the arm. “One of the 
nerviest things I ever saw!” he continued. 
“Man pulls a knife on you, you knock him into 
the water, and jump in to save him. Are you 
accustomed to that sort of thing?” 

“Not exactly; only once or twice a week!” 
Lanky smiled. “It’s mighty lucky you were 


Watty & Co. 75 

with me or I couldn’t have pulled it off. What 
I mean is that you probably saved my life.” 

“Lucky the rope was there, you mean!” re- 
plied Wallace. “What, you’re not going to sail 
back in those wet clothes, are you.^” 

“Why not?” asked Lanky. “Salt water never 
hurt me yet.” He climbed into the Dot. “Just 
cast off the painter, will you, please? Thanks! 
See you day after to-morrow,” he called as the 
Dot gathered headway. 


Chapter X 


HE day of the supper party began as usual 



with a mad race to the pier for the morn- 


ing swim, and as usual Watty was in the lead. 
As he came flying along the pier he noticed a 
box, its contents covered with seaweed, lying at 
the end, but without pausing, he cleared it in 
his headlong dive. After his swim he stopped 
to examine it and found that it was half full of 


clams. 


At first he thought one of the others had 
brought them from the mainland but both were 
as ignorant as he. Cookie suggested Luther 
White as their unknown benefactor, but Watty 
shook his head. “Too rheumatic to dig them,’’ 
he decided. 

“Wallace Thayer may have sent them over by 
a flsherman to help out supper,” ventured Lanky, 


Watty & Co. 77 

and though it did not seem probable they ac- 
cepted the theory pending proof. At any rate 
they were glad to have them, for Watty was an 
expert at frying clams in batter and there were 
plenty for the whole supper party. 

After breakfast they all climbed to the lookout, 
which Cookie had christened the Crow’s Nest. 
Lanky criticised its architecture severely. At 
the top, however, he assumed the proper look- 
out’s attitude, held an imaginary telescope to his 
eye, scanned the horizon and bellowed, “Thar 
she blows!” at an imaginary whale. 

It was a beautiful day. The sky was a deeper 
blue than usual, there was not a cloud in sight 
and not a breath of wind. 

Watty sniffed the air. 

“Hist!” whispered Lanky in a loud aside to 
Cookie, “What’s up.^” 

“He scents your whale. Lanky, and is about 
to follow baying upon the trail.” 



‘‘Crow’s nests,” said Lanky, “ought to be 
“Built by the crows these days, 

“And here is one, it seems to me, 

“Built by a pair of jays.” 


Watty. 


79 


Watty & Co, 

“But it’s my whale, Cookie; I saw him first, 
and I won’t have him barked at by Watty or 
anybody else,” complained Lanky, “and how 
do I know he won’t bite him? He probably 
would!” 

“How does she whiff, Watty?” inquired Cookie. 

“East,” said Watty, “but you don’t need the 
smell.” He pointed to the east where a dark 
blue line indicated that a light wind was ruffling 
the calm water. 

“There!” said Lanky, “I knew it! Every 
time we have a particularly good day Watty 
spoils it by saying it’s a ‘weather breeder.’” 

“East wind and clear sky, it does look like it, 
Lanky.” 

“Well, then,” said Lanky resignedly, “I’ll roll 
up the island and tuck it away until the storm’s 
over. When is it due?” 

“It may begin some time to-night,” answered 
Watty, “ but I don’t think it will amount to any- 


8o Watty & Co. 

thing before to-morrow. We can have the party 
without trouble, I guess.” 

‘‘What shall we give them to eat.^” asked 
Cookie as they climbed down from the Crow’s 
Nest. “I suggest fried clams a la Watty, for one 
thing.” 

“Might start them with clam chowder, too, a 
la Cookie,” added Watty. “Two clam dishes 
are not too many once in a while. Adirondack 
pie, for dessert.” 

“For the piece de resistance, which is French, 
dear pupils,” said Lanky, “I suggest tautogue a 
la Lanky.” 

“And where are the tautogue?” inquired 
Cookie politely. 

“As yet in the briny, whence my piscatorial 
skill shall produce them,” replied Lanky com- 
placently. 

“You have one hour before we start over for 
lunch. I’ll bet you can’t do it!” 


8i 


Watty & Co. 

“I never bet.” Lanky was virtuous. He se- 
cured a pole and started off. In less than ten 
minutes he was back carrying two tautogue 
weighing about seven and eight pounds re- 
spectively. 

Watty and Cookie stared at him incredulously 
and then began to laugh. ‘‘That’s where you 
were yesterday afternoon, is it? How did you 
catch them?” asked Watty. 

Lanky glanced at Cookie. “Put salt water on 
their tails,” he replied solemnly. 

“Well, that settles supper, anyway,” decided 
Watty, “and I move we start over to the Point, 
swim on the way, and collect our exorbitant ten 
per cent from Luther White before lunch.” 

They dressed in their bathing suits and taking 
their “store clothes,” as well as the regulation 
white duck with them, embarked on the Skid- 
dadler. 

One of their favorite amusements was to drop 


82 Watty & Co. 

a long line over the knockabout’s stern, dive 
from the deckhouse well forward by the mast, 
and catch the line. If the boat was going fast 
it was pretty active work, and if the wind was 
too strong it was impossible to pull hand over 
hand against the rushing water and regain the 
boat. It was safe though, however exciting, for 
one always remained on board and kept luffing if 
the boat’s progress was too swift. 

At the Point they put on their white flannels 
and gray coats in the cabin and then called on 
Luther White. They found him sitting in the 
sun as before, knitting another net around a 
green olive bottle, but this time he was puffing 
his old corncob contentedly and the tobacco box 
wa,s blue. Evidently he had finished the red one 
and bought another. 

“Well, well, and haow be ye all.?” he inquired 
genially. “Watty, what do ye hear from your 
father and the folks.? Pretty smart, I hope.? 


Watty & Co. 83 

Say, boys, here’s a dollar ten I owe ye. I sold 
the fish and lobsters fer eleven dollars! I cer- 
tainly am obleeged to ye. Hey, Bob! Where is 
that youngs'ter.^ Bob’s making steady wages 
now. Get’s a quarter most every day teaching 
a city feller to fish. YejS, sir! Bob’s gettin’ to 
be one of them regular Wall Street fellers! Helpis 
a young lady, too, so he often gets fifty cents!” 

They talked for a while with the old man, and 
promised to bring some more lobsters and fish 
soon. As they came out from in back of the 
house they saw Pierre La Roche talking seriously 
to Luther’s comely granddaughter at the front 
door. When the fisherman saw the boys he 
turned a dull red, left abruptly and walked 
swiftly away. The girl looked after him in sur- 
prise and then turned to the boys, blushing a 
little. 

“That Frenchman,” she said, “is certainly a 
little queer in his ways.” She paused and then 


8 4 Watty & Co. 

continued: “I know what you boys are doing 
for grandfather. He told me all about it, and 
of course I know that ten per cent commission 
is much too small. He did not seem to realize 
it, though, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell 
him. He is getting very old and is not as quick 
as he used to be or he would have seen it for 
himself; and — and we do need the money so — ” 
she halted, and seemed on the point of breaking 
down. 

The boys hastened to assure her that it was 
all right. ‘‘We catch a lot more than we can 
use,” said Watty, “and we have all the fun of it. 
Father is an old friend of Lute’s and he told me 
to see if we couldn’t fix up some way of helping 
him out. We really enjoy doing it, so please 
don’t think any more about it.” 

They left feeling a little abashed. 

“Gee whiz!” said Lanky. “Eleven dollars 
seems to make a lot of difference in this neck 


Watty & Co. 85 

of the woods, but what I wonder is what is 
going to happen in the winter when we aren’t 
here?” 

‘^We have to think up some way to fix it,” 
said Watty. 

‘‘We certainly have!^^ the others agreed. 


Chapter XI 


M rs. Hardy was very glad to see the boys. 

She had heard enough about them from 
Wallace and from Mr. Brown, the hotel clerk, 
to feel that she knew them very well. Wallace 
had told her about Luther White and Pierre La 
Roche, and Mrs. Hardy thought that three boys 
who could be so charitable to and tactful with 
a poverty-stricken old fisherman were well worth 
while. Georgina was more interested in the fight, 
the dramatic element appealed to her, but her 
naturally warm sympathies were enlisted at once 
in Luther White’s case. She began to join Wal- 
lace in his much hated morning fishing, and 
doubled the pay of small Bob, the grandson. 

When Mrs. Hardy first met the three they 
had been clad in their white duck working 

clothes, and though she had seen Lanky since she 
86 


Watty & Co. 87 

was rather surprised when all three appeared for 
lunch in their spotless white flannels and gray 
coats. They looked quite as well dressed as 
Wallace although they wore no hats, their white 
collars were unstarched, and — strange as it may 
seem — there was not a yellow glove among 
them! Mrs. Hardy greeted them cordially and 
asked about Luther White. 

“Luther has suddenly become rich, Mrs. 
Hardy,” replied Watty. “From one source he 
recently received an enormous sum, almost eleven 
dollars, and from another source nearly a dollar 
and a quarter!” 

“And,” added Lanky, “Wallace will be in- 
terested to know that the red tobacco tin has 
been replaced by a blue one!” 

“Good enough,” said Wallace, “but my word! 
ril have to find some other kind of employ- 
ment for Bob; I can’t stand that fishing much 
longer!” 


88 


Watty & Co. 

‘‘I’ll tell you!” cried Georgina, “let’s pay him 
to get our tennis balls when we knock them 
out of bounds.” 

“Good!” agreed Wallace, “and I’ll train him 
to be my caddie too.” 

“It looks as though Bob was a made man,” 
said Mrs. Hardy with a smile, and led the way 
into the dining room. 

The meal was good but the boys secretly thought 
that their own fare was better. However all but Mrs. 
Hardy had three desserts, and berry pie was some- 
thing they had not yet attempted on the island. 

After lunch Watty suggested that they spend 
the afternoon sailing, before going to the island 
for supper. Mrs. Hardy agreed and Georgina 
met the suggestion with enthusiasm. 

Mrs. Hardy thoughtfully sent the boys ahead, 
telling them to get into their white ducks, and 
they gladly did so. 

By this time the wind was blowing steadily 


Watty & Co. 89 

from the east, but not too hard. ^‘Perfect ladies’ 
weather,” Watty called it. 

Georgina came aboard full of interest. She 
had not examined the Skiddadler thoroughly on 
the day of the fog, and she went all over her 
from bow to stern continually asking questions 
that made the boys laugh. 

Lanky had told Cookie that Mrs. Hardy ap- 
proved of his tea, so Cookie had prepared a 
little surprise. About four o’clock he asked 
Georgina if she would like to investigate the 
cabin. Georgina was enchanted with the little 
oil vapor stove and the compact little cupboard 
beside the mast. Everything that could be hung 
in the cupboard was hung, and the plates were 
placed in vertical racks. Nothing could be dis- 
lodged in heavy weather. A roll of charts was 
suspended over one of the bunks; a swinging 
lamp was fastened to a bulkhead, and there was 
a small swinging table. 


9 ° Watty & Co. 

Cookie put on a pot to boil and Georgina 
helped him make tea. They served it on deck 
to the ladies and Wallace, with marmalade and 
crackers. As the wind was chilly Mrs. Hardy 
was quite delighted. “But don’t you boys take 
any.^” she asked. 

“Only occasionally,” replied Lanky, “we try 
to obey the training-table regulations during 
the summer. Our food is so different, though, 
that there is no fear of our being overtrained. 
We shall be glad to give Wallace all he can drink; 
he’s too dangerous a man on the Andover team 
to suit us!” 

“I’ll take a chance,” said Wallace. “I think 
you’re afraid of ruining your delicate nervous 
equilibrium, Lanky.” 

Everybody laughed. Lanky looked as though 
he had not a nerve in his body! 

They were outside the island by this time and 
the boat rose to a rather heavy ground swell. 


91 


Watty & Co. 

‘‘I hope nobody loses any other kind of an equi- 
librium,” remarked Watty, but they all seemed to 
be enjoying it thoroughly. 

The water was deep right up to the high cliffs 
on the outside of the island, so Watty sailed 
close. As he had hoped several seals were bask- 
ing in the sun just out of reach of the breakers, 
and they allowed the Skiddadler to approach 
very near before they took fright and splashed 
into the sea. 

Georgina exclaimed with excitement and eagerly 
watched for the bobbing heads that appeared 
on all sides at some little distance from the boat. 
One seal came up by mistake right under the 
bow, suddenly saw the boat, leaped clear, and 
disappeared with a great splash. 

‘‘I didn’t know seals came so far south,” said 
Mrs. Hardy watching them with interest. 

‘‘These aren’t the regular fur seals,” answered 
Cookie. “They have short hair instead of thick 



The seals they splashed and dashed about 
Within the briny sea, 

And Cookie hailed them with a shout 
To come aboard for tea! 


Watty. 


93 


Watty & Co. 

fur and are called Harbor Seals, though a harbor 
is the last place they would go to. There is a 
bounty on them, I believe, for they are useless 
themselves, and they kill a great many fish. 
Watty’s father doesn’t allow any shooting on 
the island, though, and I guess the seals know 
it for they spend a lot of time visiting us.” 

Watty cleared the eastern point of the island and 
entered the channel. It was as calm as a mill pond 
in contrast with the open sea they had just left, and 
the basin, bathed in the warm glow of the setting 
sun, looked like a country pond. The little wharf 
was mirrored on the glassy surface and the cabin 
teyond looked surprisingly homelike. 

This was the first time their guests had seen 
the island except in the fog and darkness, and 
the peaceful beauty of the scene impressed them. 

‘H don’t wonder you like it out here,” said 
Mrs. Hardy. 

“It’s perfectly wonderful!” sighed Georgina. 


Chapter XII 


S UPPER was a great success. Everything was 
delicious and everything was eaten to 
the last morsel. Adirondack pie is not a pie 
at all, but flapjacks as large as the gridiron will 
hold, piled on top of each other with grated 
maple sugar between. ‘‘Not exactly training- 
table food,” said Watty, “but once in a while 
will do us no harm. Have some more, Wallace.” 

Wallace passed his plate. “Don’t forget we 
are all going to Yale year after next. Next 
summer you mustn’t encourage me to break 
training.” 

“We might pair off,” proposed Lanky. “Wal- 
lace and I will eat anything we want to, and as 
much of it as we want, but Cookie and Watty 
can eat only what is good for them. I think 
94 


95 


fVatty & Co. 

that’s a fine idea; it would make things even. 
Pass the pie, Watty.” 

Watty gravely helped himself and passed the 
plate to Cookie, who took the last piece and 
passed the empty plate to Lanky. 

‘‘My proposition is voted down as usual,” 
said Lanky plaintively, regarding the empty 
plate. 

The wind rose during supper and it could be 
heard moaning through the trees on the windward 
side of the island. Watty was relieved when 
Mrs. Hardy suggested an early departure. He lit 
the side lights on the Skiddadler and placed 
them on the boards in the main stays, green on 
the starboard side and red on the port. He did 
not think it worth while to shorten sail on the 
trip to the Point for the wind was fair, “several 
points abaft the beam,” as he expressed it, but 
the whitecaps half seen through the dark when 
they had cleared the channel looked threatening. 


9 ^ Watty & Co. 

Nevertheless, Watty decided to set the balloon 
jib for the wind had not yet attained real strength 
and there was no danger of carrying anything 
away. 

Cookie and Lanky got the big sail out of the 
cabin and tied small pieces of string around its 
folds at intervals of about four feet. They then 
lowered the jib and hoisted the balloon in its 
place. 

A short tug on the sheet broke the first cord, 
loosening the lower part of the canvas, and 
“bang-bang-bang” went the other cords, broken 
by the spreading sail as it caught the wind. The 
bow of the Skiddadler rose and she seemed to 
leap through the darkness. 

It was the most exhilarating sail any of their 
guests had ever had, but it was over in twenty- 
five minutes. Georgina did not sing. She sat 
on the deckhouse, leaning against the boom, 
almost lost in Lanky’s sweater, with one of the 


JVatty & Co. 97 

boys beside her, and watched the green glare of 
the starboard light on the whitecaps. 

She had evidently reached some decision in 
her own mind, for she whispered to her mother 
when they were about to row to the wharf at 
the Point, and Mrs. Hardy nodded. 

‘^Good night. Cookie,” said Georgina; ‘^good 
night. Lanky; thank you for the sail, Watty.” 

‘‘Good night, George!” replied the boys. 

The sail back to the island would be “some- 
thing else again,” as Lanky remarked. They 
took two reefs in the mainsail and used the small 
storm jib, for with a head wind, increasing in 
force, it would not be safe to carry much sail. 

The boys put on their oilskins gladly for 
sheets of spray dashed over the boat. Just be- 
fore they reached the island the full force of 
the storm struck them. The wind shrieked 
through the rigging and Watty’s orders seemed 
snatched from his lips the moment he issued 


98 fVatty & Co. 

them, but shortly they were under the lee of the 
island and then in the channel. The water of 
the basin was scarcely touched by a ripple. 

All night the gale blew, and then in the early 
morning the wind shifted to the southeast, 
still blowing hard but with a promise of better 
weather. 


Chapter XIII 


T he boys awoke to see a flying rack of 
clouds under a leaden sky, and they dis- 
tinctly heard the roar of the breakers on the 
outer edge of the island. The morning swim was 
the briefest possible, for the air was damp and 
chilly. 

At ten o’clock Lanky threw down the book he 
had been reading in front of the Are and rose 
with a show of energy. 

‘‘Am I afraid of stormy weather.^” he inquired. 
“Yes,” replied Cookie casually, without look- 
ing up. 

“No,” continued Lanky, as if he had not 
heard. “Others may hug the Are in calm secur- 
ity, but I shall fare forth into the gale — ” 
“Gale’s almost over,” interrupted Watty. 
“Fare forth into the gale,” repeated Lanky, 
99 


loo fVatty & Co. 

“climb to a ridiculous Crow’s Nest most inse- 
curely erected in the tall top of a towering hem- 
lock, and with telescope to my eagle eye I shall 
scan the horizon for wrecks, mariners in distress, 
and — and. . . 

“Pollywogs,” suggested Watty. 

“What’s the difference between a pollywog 
and a tadpole.^” asked Cookie irrelevantly. 

“Well,” began Lanky, “a pollywog has a tail 
and a tadpole has — a — er — feathers,” and Cookie’s 
book hit the door that slammed behind Lanky’s 
rapid retreat. 

“The nut!” exclaimed Cookie, picking up his 
book. “He’ll meet a squirrel some day and come 
back eaten alive!” and with this somewhat con- 
tradictory statement Cookie went on reading. 

Suddenly the door burst open. “There is a 
wreck!” shouted Lanky excitedly. 

One look at his grave face showed that he was 


serious. 


Watty & Co. loi 

Watty jumped to his feet. ‘‘How far out?” 

“Quarter of a mile, dismasted, and drifting 
directly toward the rocks!” 

“All right, we’ll take the dory. Cookie, bring 
the axe!” Watty took command by tacit con- 
sent in anything to do with boats. • 

Watty and Lanky ran to the wharf and cast 
off the dory. Lanky took the oars at stroke and 
Watty the bow oars. Cookie arrived with the 
axe and an extra oar to steer with, and with long 
strokes they rowed rapidly through the channel 
and to the eastern end of the island. 

Clear of the protection of the island the waves 
were tremendous but their very size made them 
more safe than a short choppy sea would have 
been, and a flat-bottomed dory is the best sea 
boat in the world. 

Cookie stood up carefully. “There she is!” he 
shouted. “She’s a yacht; I can see the yacht 
ensign, union down, on the jigger mast. Looks 


102 Watty & Co. 

like a forty-foot yawl. Mainmast snapped ten 
feet above the deckhouse and gone by the board, 
and most of the bowsprit carried away! Hurry 
or she’ll be on the rocks! I don’t see anybody 
on board.” 

‘‘Take us a few yards to windward,” cried 
Watty, and redoubled his efforts at the oars. 
Neither he nor Lanky turned their heads for a 
moment. Watty had already formulated a plan 
from Cookie’s description that he thought might 
work. 

Soon they were abreast of the wreck, still two 
hundred yards from the roaring breakers under 
the cliffs but drifting steadily nearer. 

She had been a beautiful boat, but now she 
was rolling heavily in the trough of the sea, 
a mass of tangled wreckage forward. As she 
rolled the boys could see first her broad deck 
with glistening brass fittings, and then, as she 
rolled the other way, her long black hull and 


Watty & Co. 103 

green underbody almost to the keel came into 
view. 

“Too risky to lay the dory alongside,’’ called 
Watty. “Lanky, you’re the strongest; stay in 
the dory and stand by to pick us up if we can’t 
get her under steerage way in time. Cookie and 
I will swim for it.” He began pulling off his 
jumper and Cookie followed his example. 

Putting the axe in his belt Watty let himself 
carefully over the side of the dory and struck 
out for the yawl. Cookie close behind him. As 
the wreck rolled toward them they grasped the 
rail and clambered aboard as she rolled back. 

They worked their way forward over the pitch- 
ing deck to the splintered mast. The mainsail, 
hopelessly tattered, hung over the side, and the' 
mast floating alongside, still held by wire rope 
stays, rammed the hull at every roll. 

Cookie whipped out his knife and began cutting 
ropes right and left, and Watty struggling to 


104 Watty & Co. 

keep his foothold attacked the stays with his 
axe. Fortunately the two starboard stays had 
parted when the mast went, but the yawl was 
perilously near the rocks when the wreckage 
finally floated clear. 

Half of the bowsprit had been carried away 
and the jib had gone with it, but the staysail 
still lay furled on the forward deck. Hastily 
casting oif the lashing Watty took the halliard 
in his teeth and scrambled up the ten-foot stump 
of the mast. The boat rolled and tossed and the 
loosened staysail flapped madly in the wind. 
Watty clung with his legs and gradually worked 
the sail over the splintered top of the mast. 
Cookie paying out the slack from below. Then 
Watty dropped to the deck with the end of the 
sail in his hand and they both pulled on it. It 
made a strange jib; the big staysail pulled over 
the stump of the mast almost reached the deck 
below but the boys lashed it securely, winding a 



My knees were aching with the strain 
Of clinging to the mast; 

We pulled with might! We pulled with main 
And set the sail at last. 


Watty, 


Watty & Co. 

line around the after part of the sail, binding it 
close to the mast, but leaving the forward part 
free to the wind. 

Then they worked their way aft. Fortunately 
the jigger sail was intact and it took but a mo- 
ment to hoist it. They were almost at the edge 
of the breakers. Watty grasped the wheel and 
Cookie trimmed the sheets. The sails stopped 
flapping and filled; the boat gathered headway 
and moved slowly forward. They gave a shout 
of triumph, and Lanky stood up recklessly in 
the dory and waved his arms wildly like a wind- 
mill gone mad. 

The door of the cabin opened. ‘‘Hello, boys!” 
said a cheerful, unconcerned voice. 



We just escaped the jagged rock 
Where angry breakers roared, 
When we received an awful shock 
And ’most fell overboard ! 

Watty. 


Chapter XIV 


I N a daze the boys stared at the sudden ap- 
parition framed in the companionway. 

It was nothing more alarming than a very 
pleasant-looking young man about thirty years 
of age, puffing complacently at a calabash pipe. 
He was dressed in a blue yachting suit with a 
life preserver strapped over his shoulders. His 
eyes twinkled at the looks of amazement that 
greeted his appearance. 

He came slowly up the cabin steps and the 
boys saw that one arm was hanging limp at his 
side. 

He looked at the close line of breakers and 
gave a low whistle through his teeth. 

‘‘A pretty near thing!” he said, “pretty near! 
Can you clear the point 

Watty came out of his daze and looked ahead. 

io8 


Watty & Co. 109 

“Just about, I think, and it’s lucky, for I couldn’t 
bring her about under this rig, and I haven’t 
room to jibe.” 

“I was just about to swim for it,” said the 
stranger, “and it would have been awkward, 
rather, for I hate to get my clothes wet, and 
besides, I can’t swim.” 

“ Jehosa^A(^^.''” said Cookie. “You couldn’t 
land through those breakers, anyway!” 

“No, I guess not,” was the reply. “I repeat 
it was a pretty near thing! I didn’t know I 
had been saved, and I was taking a last smoke 
in the cabin when I felt the boat steady under 
sail. And I don’t believe,” his face grew serious, 
“I don’t believe I was ever quite so glad to see 
anybody in my life as I was to see you two, so 
completely and effectively in charge!” 

“We are mighty glad we happened to be 
around,” said Watty. He had cleared the point 
of the island and he let the yawl’s head fall off 


no fVatty & Co. 

until the sails jibed over to the other side. On 
this course he was just able to make the mouth 
of the channel where Lanky, already arrived, 
was waiting in the dory. 

Under her improvised rig it was impossible to 
manoeuvre the dismasted yawl through the 
narrow channel, so Watty dropped into the dory 
with Lanky again, and they towed her in. Cookie 
at the wheel of the rescued wreck. 

The yachtsman winced with pain when he 
climbed into the dory to go ashore and on the 
dock he swayed uncertainly. ‘‘I guess I am a 
little faint,” he apologized, still feel the rolling 
motion of my boat; the dock seems to be heaving 
up and down — do you suppose they will give 
us something to eat at the house? I think it 
must be breakfast time.” 

Lanky took him carefully by the uninjured 
arm and led him toward the cabin. ‘‘We belong 
here and the whole place is at your service. I 


1 1 1 


Watty & Co. 

guess it is quite a bit past lunch time.” Lanky 
thought the other’s mind was wandering from 
faintness, and he was far from surprised at that. 

But the young man continued; “I said break- 
fast because I didn’t have any this morning, nor 
yesterday morning, for that matter. In fact, I 
believe that dinner night before last was my last 
meal.” 

“Great Scott!” exclaimed Cookie and started 
for the cabin on the run. 

They helped the stranger into the cabin and 
gave him a chair before the fire. Cookie placed 
a cup of tea on a table at his elbow. He drained 
it immediately and Cookie filled the cup again. 

“There’s nothing in the world more bracing 
than tea,” said the young man, “and that is 
wonderfully good tea I ” 

“Excuse me,” said Watty, “but I’m pretty 
good at first aid. Can I do something for that 

Sixmi 


1 12 Watty & Co. 

‘‘Well, I certainly wish you would try. There 
seems to be a number of things you are good at. 
My shoulder is dislocated and I don’t mind say- 
ing it’s pretty painful.” 

“I should think it would be!” exclaimed 
Watty. “Why didn’t you tell me at once?” 

“To tell the truth I forgot all about it,” re- 
plied the other. “You were pretty busy when 
we first met and I had had a good deal to think 
of. I am just beginning to realize how abso- 
lutely plain ordinary frightened I was.” 

“You certainly didn’t show it any!” said 
Watty. His admiration for the stranger’s cool- 
ness was increasing every minute. 

The boys helped him to the couch and took 
off his coat and shirt. Watty felt the joint 
gently, told Lanky where to hold, and with a 
quick pull snapped the arm back into place. 
The stranger never made a sound, but fainted 
dead away. 


Watty & Co. 113 

‘‘No wonder!” said Watty, “he has been 
through enough to half kill a man and the pain 
of that arm must have been excruciating for 
hours.” Watty moistened his handkerchief and 
bathed his patient’s face. He came to almost 
immediately. 

They helped him dress in warm, dry clothes 
and a big dressing gown and fixed a comfortable 
sling for his arm. Cookie made a big bowl of 
milk toast, for Watty said that although the man 
was not exactly starving he ought to be careful 
in his weakened condition. 

The couch was placed in front of the fire and 
the comfort and warmth of the room combined 
with the warm food brought color to the stranger’s 
pale face. Although the boys were full of curiosity 
they did not like to trouble him with questions. 

When he had finished the toast Lanky filled 
his pipe for him, but when he presented it the 
stranger was sound asleep. 


II4 Watty & Co. 

“Good enough!” commented Watty. 

All afternoon their guest slept soundly and 
the boys moved softly and spoke in whispers. 
At supper time they awoke him and he seemed 
stronger. 

He asked if he could have more milk toast, 
“and another cup of that wonderful tea,” and 
after the meal he puffed contentedly at his pipe 
gazing at the fire. 

“I hope you boys will excuse me if I don’t 
tell you of my adventure before to-morrow,” 
he said, “I feel a little fagged yet, but I don’t 
think that I have ever been so absolutely com- 
fortable in my life, and certainly food never 
tasted so wonderfully good before. You can be 
sure I appreciate your hospitality.” 

“Doctor’s orders are that the patient shall not 
talk,” said Watty with a smile. 

“Thank you,” replied the patient, “you are an 
ideal doctor and the model of a perfect host. 


Watty & Co. 1 15 

I don’t believe I shall even think.” He continued 
to gaze dreamily into the fire. Once when his 
pipe went out he attempted to refill it holding 
it awkwardly between his knees. Cookie took 
it from him and filled it scientifically as he had 
done when a small boy for his father. 

The stranger thanked him cordially and re- 
lapsed into silence. 

At bedtime the boys wanted him to take 
one of their beds upstairs, but he said, “I 
don’t want to turn any of you out; I’ve made 
enough trouble already. Anyway, if you don’t 
mind I should like to stay by this fire all night. 
It reminds me that I’m safe on shore again. I 
shall be perfectly comfortable on the couch.” 

He persuaded them that he really meant it, 
so finally Watty gave him a blanket and as 
they went upstairs he was lying on his side on 
the couch with the blanket over him, still puffing 
at his pipe and gazing dreamily at the fire. 


Chapter XV 


W ATTY woke the next morning with a feel- 
ing that something unusual had happened 
but for a moment could not think what it was. 
Then he remembered the adventure of the 
wrecked yawl and their visitor downstairs. 

He refrained from the yell with which he 
usually awoke Cookie and Lanky, but shook 
them gently, and they crept down the stairs. 
Lanky in his excess of caution stubbed his toe 
on the last step, forgot himself and exclaimed 
‘‘Ouch!” 

The stranger opened his eyes. “Hello!” 
said he cheerfully. 

“Good morning,” replied Watty, “I hope you 
are feeling better.” 

The stranger sat up carefully. “Except for a 
little stiffness in my shoulder I should say that 

ii6 


Watty & Co. 1 1 7 

‘Richard was himself again/ or would be when 
shaved! If one of you will be kind enough to 
look for my toilet case in the port locker in the 
cabin of my boat I shall be very much obliged.” 

Cookie found the razors and when the boys 
returned from their swim the visitor had effected 
a surprising transformation. His dishevelled 
hair was brushed, his face was smooth and there 
was color in his cheeks. His clothes, although 
somewhat wrinkled, were dry and fitted ex- 
tremely well. 

He watched them with interest when they 
prepared breakfast. “Do you always put a 
whole egg in the coffee.^” he asked Cookie in 
surprise. 

“Yes,” replied Cookie. “Mix it thoroughly 
with the coffee, put it in cold water, bring it to a 
boil and settle it with a cup of cold water. It 
gives it a cooked flavor you can’t get any other 
way, and it’s always perfectly clear.” 


ii8 


Watty & Co. 

“It’s certainly mighty good,” said the stranger 
a little later, “and if there is enough for a third 
cup — thank you.” 

He smoked his pipe while the others washed 
the dishes. 

“Well, boys,” he said when it was over, “let’s 
go out to the Petrel and while we take stock of 
the damage I’ll tell you my story.” 

“I’m afraid you will need a new bowsprit, 
mast, and mainsail,” said Watty as they rowed 
out. “We couldn’t save much.” Watty was 
almost apologetic. 

“Good Heavens! You saved the boat and you 
saved ME. I’m more than satisfied!” 

They went over the Petrel together. There was 
a galley forward with a three burner oil vapor 
range and bunks for the crew. The cabin was 
roomy, with bunks along the side, and aft on the 
starboard side was a diminutive stateroom with 
an upper and a lower berth. The yacht was 


Watty & Co. 1 19 

beautifully fitted throughout and the boys were 
enthusiastic in their admiration. 

They seated themselves on the bunks in the 
cabin and their new friend filled his pipe, puffed 
it a few times contemplatively, and began: 

‘‘In the first place my name is Richard T. 
Arthur, and I live in Boston, and in the second 
place — ^when it comes to yachting — I scarcely 
know the bowsprit from the rudder!” He looked 
at the amazed faces of the boys and his eyes 
twinkled. 

“You are probably wondering how I happened 
to be cruising alone,” he continued; “it was this 
way. I left Boston three weeks ago with a crew 
of three, skipper, deckhand and Japanese cook. 
All went well until we reached Tennant’s Harbor 
and there I had to discharge my skipper for in- 
solence. The deckhand elected to go with him, 
and when I decided to sail back along the coast 
and hunt up some relations of mine, thinking 


120 Watty & Co. 

I had learned enough about sailing, the cook 
deserted. The outcome proves that he had more 
sense than I gave him credit for! 

‘‘Nevertheless, after trying without success to 
get somebody else, I started by myself intending 
to make some harbor every night. That was in 
the early morning day before yesterday — it seems 
a year ago, now. 

“In order not to have too many sails to handle 
I started with jib -and mainsail. It was hard 
work to get the mainsail up alone, and the boat 
didn’t seem to mind her helm very well.” He 
turned to Watty. “What was the matter, 
do you think 

“Too much headsail,” replied Watty, “jib and 
jigger would have worked better.” 

“Shows how little I know,” resumed Mr. 
Arthur. “Well, things went on pretty well until 
noon when the storm hit me and I decided to 
shorten sail. I left the wheel and started to let 


Watty & Co. 1 21 

go the mainsail halliards but I had knotted them 
and they were soaked with spray and the knots 
had shrunk.’’ 

‘‘Never knot halliard or sheet,” murmured Watty. 

“I guess you’re right,” said the stranger. 
“Well, anyway, before I could clear the halliards 
the Petrel turned broadside to the wind just as 
a nasty gust came. The mast went by the 
board and I jumped for the main sheet; that’s 
how I dislocated my arm. 

“I was a little annoyed,” he smiled faintly, 
“but not much alarmed at the time. I thought 
that the storm would blow itself out before long 
and that I could row ashore in the dinghy. It 
did not occur to me that I would not be able to 
row with one arm, but I was spared the trouble, 
anyway. I looked astern and saw that the 
dinghy was half full of water and dragging 
heavily. Just as I looked the painter broke and 
the boat drifted away. 


122 Watty & Co. 

‘‘There was nothing to do but to take things 
as philosophically as I could. I managed to 
raise the ensign on the jigger mast union down 
as a signal of distress. Then I drifted. 

“I drifted and rolled and pitched without 
being able to do anything for nearly twenty- 
four hours. I wasn’t frightened until yesterday 
when I seemed to be bearing down directly upon 
the island, and I must say that the outside of 
your island is as unfriendly and inhospitable 
looking as this side is friendly and hospitable. 
I went below to gather my strength and put on a 
life preserver. Then I smoked what I thought 
might be a last pipe. You know the rest. Here 
I am, bound for a place rather indefinitely called 
the Point, cast away most fortunately on a far 
from desert island, and very hospitably and 
kindly taken care of by the three pluckiest boys 
I ever met.” His face was serious as he finished. 

“You are only three miles from the Point, 


Watty & Co. 123 

Mr. Arthur,” said Watty; ‘‘we can take you 
over before lunch if you care to go. We were 
mighty glad to help yesterday, of course, but 
we were not really in any danger. When Lanky 
saw you from the lookout we rowed out in the 
dory. Cookie and I swam to the Petrel, and if 
we had not been able to get steerage way on her 
in time to escape the rocks Lanky could have 
picked us up.” 

“Watty managed the whole thing,” interposed 
Lanky. 

Mr. Arthur did not seem to be listening, but 
he was looking at the boys intently. “By Jove!” 
he exclaimed, “Watty, Lanky and Cookie, Cookie, 
Lanky and Watty! Call me a Dutchman if you’re 
not ‘The Damon Twins and Pythias! The 
Triumphant Triumvirate!’” 

“Great Scott!” gasped Cookie, “our sins have 
found us out again!” 

continued Mr. Arthur, “I am sur- 


124 Watty & Co. 

prised! I have known you vicariously for the 
past three years. I never saw you until last 
fall when you wallowed victoriously through the 
mud in the championship game. I’m an Exeter 
man myself, some years back, of course, but not 
quite the oldest living graduate!” 


Chapter XVI 


OT another word could the boys get from 



him on the subject. He answered their 


questions most cheerfully but with great vague- 


ness. 


Lanky got Watty aside. “He says he knows 
us Vicariously,’ Watty; what does that mean? 
I’m no dictionary!” 

“It means ‘through somebody else,’” replied 
Watty; “I guess whoever it was was a friend of 
ours, for Mr. Arthur seems pleased.” 

“Well, I’m relieved,” said Lanky; “it’s sort 
of embarrassing to meet somebody who has 
known you that way from childhood’s happy 
hour, somebody you never heard of before!” 

“Yes, Lanky,” agreed Watty, “I can see how 
it might be embarrassing for one with your dark 


126 fVatty & Co. 

record. Now Cookie and I having clear con- 
sciences — ’’ 

“Oh, rats!” said Lanky peevishly, but with 
a grin. 

At lunch Mr. Arthur brought up the subject 
of the disabled Petrel. Watty suggested that 
they sail her over to the Point in the afternoon. 
“I believe old Luther White would take care of 
her,” he said, “and act as foreman of repairs; 
he was a good rigger in his day. You could 
telegraph the builders to ship a new mast and 
sails.” 

“Sounds good to me,” said Mr. Arthur. “As 
for myself, I believe I shall get a room at the 
hotel. I intended to spend my first vacation in 
ten years on the Maine coast and I am not 
going to let a trifling misadventure like a ship- 
wreck interfere with my plans!” 

Cookie and Lanky volunteered to sail the 
Petrel over, so they towed her through the chan- 


Watty & Co. 127 

nel and set her sails as Watty had set them the 
day before. The Skiddadler, carrying Watty and 
Mr. Arthur, passed them easily. Mr. Arthur 
gazed at his boat somewhat ruefully. 

‘‘She looks like the Flying Dutchman,” he re- 
marked, “only she does anything but fly under 
that rig!” 

As they neared the Point Watty could see that 
Georgina and Wallace, attended by small Bob, 
were fishing from the end of the pier so he sailed 
close. They hailed him gaily and he was about to 
reply when Mr. Arthur called, “Hello, George!” 
giving Watty his second surprise that day. 

“Why, it’s Uncle Dick!” cried Georgina. 
“Hello, hello. Uncle Dick, where did you come 
from.^ where’s your boat.? — oh. I’m glad to see 
you!” She dropped her pole and ran to the 
landing stage to meet him. “Oh, what’s the 
matter with your arm.?” she asked anxiously, 
when the pumpkin seed reached the float. 


128 Watty & Co. 

‘‘One question at a time/’ laughed her uncle 
as he climbed out and greeted her affectionately. 
“Where’s your mother? I’ll tell you both at once.” 

Georgina led him delightedly to the hotel. 
Wallace gazed after them and then turned to 
Watty. “Who’s your new friend?” he asked. 

“His name is Richard T. Arthur,” replied 
Watty. “Found him adrift yesterday in a dis- 
masted yawl, a beauty, too!” 

“He looks familiar, somehow,” said Wallace. 
“Richard T. Arthur; Richard T. — I have it!” 
he cried suddenly. “R. Tupper Arthur!” 

“What!” exclaimed Watty, “the Boston finan- 
cier?” 

“Sure thing!” said Wallace, “several times a 
millionaire ! He came to Chicago to see my 
father on business once and I met him. He’s 
no end of a good sort, too.” He grinned. “You 
ought to have held him on your island for ransom!” 

Watty laughed. “That’s so, but we never 


Watty & Co. 129 

connected Richard T. Arthur with R. Tupper, 
There’s his yawl, the Petrel, coming in.” 

The curiously rigged boat drew nearer watched 
with interest by the people on the beach and 
the hotel veranda as well as by the two boys. 
The irrepressible Lanky had found a small brass 
saluting cannon and let it off with a loud bang 
as the anchor was dropped a short way from 
shore near Luther White’s cottage. 

Watty and Wallace rowed out in the pumpkin 
seed to bring them ashore and they all talked 
over the new development. 

‘‘Sam Hardy was the ‘vicarious’ one, of 
course,” said Lanky; “Sam’s always talking 
about Uncle Dick.” 

They found Mr. Arthur talking to Mr. Brown 
in the hotel office. He looked disappointed. 
“I’m sorry, sir,” the clerk was saying, “but we 
haven’t an empty room in the house and we’re 
booked right up to the end of August.” 


130 Watty & Co. 

“Is there any other place on the Point?’’ asked 
Mr. Arthur. 

“I’m afraid the other hotel is crowded, too,” 
replied Mr. Brown. 

“I suppose I could sleep on the Petrel and eat 
here, but that wouldn’t be very comfortable 
when she was being repaired. Hello, boys,” he 
said as they appeared, “I’m shipwrecked again! 
They won’t even give me a billiard table to sleep 
on!” 

Watty had foreseen the possibility of such a 
contingency and had talked it over with the 
others. They had agreed enthusiastically with a 
proposal he made. 

“Mr. Arthur,” he said, “if you don’t think we 
are presuming on too short an acquaintance we 
should be mighty glad to have you stay the rest 
of the summer with us.” 

“We sure would!” said Lanky and Cookie. 

“By Jove!” exclaimed Mr. Arthur, “that’s 


Watty & Co. 1 31 

awfully good of you boys! There’s nothing I 
should like better, if you think you could stand 
an old graybeard like me around.” He was 
evidently pleased at the sincerity of their in- 
vitation. 

The boys laughed. 

“Then I’ll be delighted to come. Of course I 
shall pay my share.” 

“Certainly,” said Watty, for he realized that 
Mr. Arthur would feel more comfortable on such 
a basis. 

Lanky shook his head doubtfully. “It’s pretty 
expensive,” he sighed. “It costs us about eight 
dollars apiece a month. Do you think you could 
afford it?” 

It was rather impudent, but it was funny. Mr. 
Arthur slapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll bor- 
row the money from you. Lanky!” he said with 
a laugh. 

“Come on, my gentle hosts,” he continued. 


132 Watty & Co. 

let’s interview the Ancient Mariner, Luther 
White. Come along, Thayer.” 

‘‘My word!” said Wallace, accompanying them. 
“I’ll change places with you, Mr. Arthur. You 
take my room at the hotel and I’ll go to the 
island!” 

“Not on your said the millionaire. 


Chapter XVII 


M r. Arthur was a great addition to life on 
the island. He had a banjo with him on 
the Petrel and played and sang remarkably well. 
The old song, Abdullah Bulbul Ameer, was their 
favorite, and with Lanky thrumming his guitar, 
Mr. Arthur twanging the banjo and all four sing- 
ing parts the rafters in the little cabin on the 
island rang every evening. 

Almost every day they sailed to the Point or 
Mrs. Hardy, Georgina and Wallace would visit 
them on the island. 

Mr. Arthur took great interest in Luther 
White, paid him generously for superintending 
the work on the Petrel and invented countless 
errands for small Bob. The Whites were be- 
ginning to feel quite prosperous. 

Pierre La Roche was working under Luther’s 
133 






/ / / CooKi 


Oh, strong was every beam and joist, 
We put them to the proof. 

For we made noise enough to hoist 
An ordinary roof. 


Watty. 


Watty & Co. 135 

supervision on the Petrel and seemed very much 
subdued. Every time he saw Lanky he flushed 
a dull red but the boys began to understand that 
it was shame on his part and not anger. 

The mystery of the clams continued. Two or 
three times a week the boys found a new box 
on the wharf, and once Lanky determined to sit 
up all night and watch. There were fresh clams 
there in the morning, and Lanky, leaning against 
a pile, was sound asleep not ten feet away. The 
only result was that Lanky was unusually peevish 
at breakfast and would not touch a clam at any 
meal. 

“Clam chowder, clam fritters, fried clams, 
baked clams, steamed clams — Pm getting tired 
of clams!’’ he exclaimed, exasperated. “I move 
we give them to Luther White!” 

And eventually clams began to join the lob- 
sters the boys supplied to the old flsherman and 
his profits increased. 


136 Watty & Co. 

Under Watty’s tutorship Mr. Arthur rapidly 
improved in sailing, but he could not understand 
how the Skiddadler when close hauled would 
sail so nearly into the eye of the wind. 

‘‘I believe it has been figured out mathe- 
matically,” said Watty, “but I explain it by 
the line of least resistance. You see the wind 
blowing on the sails makes the boat move in 
some direction. The pressure of the water on 
the keel prevents her moving sideways, she can’t 
move backward because the sails are forward and 
the wind filling them gives a pressure in that 
direction. Consequently she has to move ahead.” 
With this explanation Mr. Arthur began to un- 
derstand why he did things, which is much dif- 
ferent from simply knowing what to do, and he 
handled tiller and sheets naturally without figur- 
ing out beforehand what the effect would be. 
In other words he was becoming a “natural 
sailor.” 


Watty & Co. 137 

Cookie undertook to teach their guest swim- 
ming and put into practice some of his favorite 
theories. ‘‘The great trouble with beginners,” he 
said, “is that they spend all their energy in try- 
ing to keep their head and shoulders out of the 
water, when the lower the body is, the easier 
it is to float. You will notice that when we 
swim for any distance we go completely out of 
sight between every stroke. The impetus of 
our kick brings us to the surface and we take 
a breath then.” 

He started Mr. Arthur in waist-deep water, 
telling him to duck under, open his eyes and 
look around. That was to get him accustomed 
to having his head under water. Then he told 
him to float on his face, still keeping his eyes 
open. In a short time Mr. Arthur enjoyed his 
morning swim as keenly as the boys, but it took 
him longer to learn to dive. 

One morning at breakfast there was quite a 



It’s funny he came out alive; 

He hit with such a fearful shock 
The very island seemed to rock, 

And breakers overwhelmed the dock. 

Watty. 


Watty & Co. 139 

discussion as to the date. Lanky insisted that 
it was Christmas and that everybody ought to 
give him rare and costly gifts, but finally they 
consulted an almanac and decided that it was 
August fifteenth. 

‘‘The new mast^ and sails were promised for 
to-day,” said Mr. Arthur, “and I suggest that 
we go to the Point and see if they have arrived.” 

Cookie elected to stay at home, do a little 
work around the house and attend to the lobster 
pots. So when the others sailed off in the Skid- 
dadler he took the Dot and started on his round. 

The wind was light and it took Cookie some 
time to complete his inspection. He decided 
to change the position of one of the pots, so he 
sailed to the western end of the island, dropped 
the pot there, and continued on a course that 
would complete the circuit of the island. 

As he rounded the western point he saw a red 
dory entering the mouth of the channel. An old 


14 ° fVatty & Co. 

spritsail was set, but Cookie could see that oars 
were being used as well. 

‘‘It’s Pierre La Roche, sure enough!” said 
Cookie to himself. “I think I had better see what 
he is up to.” 

The wind was so light that it would have been 
impossible to reach the cabin in time to prevent 
trouble — if La Roche meant trouble, but the 
sea was calm enough to land on the rocks, and 
Cookie pointed the Dot’s bow toward the cliffs. 

As he approached several seals splashed hastily 
into the water. The bow of the Dot grounded 
softly on a seaweed-covered rock and Cookie 
leaped ashore. He noticed that one seal had 
remained, apparently dead or asleep, but he 
had no time for more than a hasty glance. He 
scrambled up the cliff and started on a run for 
the cabin. 

He was hidden among the trees when he neared 
the cabin and his feet made no noise on the pine 


fVatty & Co. 141 

needles. C<X)kie knew that he could not hope 
to try conclusions with La Roche as Lanky had 
done, so he decided to reconnoitre before deter- 
mining his line of action. He crept softly to the 
edge of the wood where he could see the cabin 
and the wharf. 

Cookie gasped with astonishment. The red 
dory was at the end of the wharf, and La Roche, 
standing up, was lifting a large box. As he set 
it down Cookie could see the wet seaweed that 
covered the contents. The clam mystery was 
solved ! 

That was surprising enough but the passenger 
in the boat puzzled Cookie more. Seated in the 
stern was Sadie May, Luther White’s grand- 
daughter! 

They were talking together and Cookie could 
hear Sadie laugh, but could not catch the words. 

‘‘They evidently saw the Skiddadler sail off,” 
guessed Cookie, “and thought no one was on the 


142 Watty & Co. 

island. Work on the Petrel was held up waiting 
for the new mast and La Roche took the op- 
portunity to make his donation. But why he 
brought Sadie unless he is in — that’s it!” The 
light dawned on Cookie when he saw La Roche 
lift Sadie’s hand to his lips before he settled to 
the oars and rowed off. 

“But why do they bring clams,” Cookie 
asked himself, “when they must know that we 
are giving most of them to Luther.^” 

Cookie waited until the red dory was out of 
sight in a turn of the channel and then retraced 
his steps to the place where he had left the Dot. 
The ebbing tide had left her high and dry, and 
as Cookie started to push her off over the slip- 
pery seaweed he noticed a slight movement at 
the side of the dead seal. A small round head, 
surprisingly like a little old man’s except for the 
soft brown eyes, was looking at Cookie over the 
dead seal’s body. 


Watty & Co. 143 

‘‘Great Scott!” he exclaimed, “a baby seal!” 
He started toward it cautiously. The small seal 
flopped rapidly away in an ecstasy of fear and 
Cookie followed, slipping over the weed-covered 
rocks. Instead of going toward the water, as 
Cookie feared, the baby seal headed in, and at 
the base of the cliif Cookie caught it easily. It 
struggled weakly in his arms. 

“Why, you poor little rat!” said Cookie, 
“I’m not going to hurt you, but if I leave you 
here by your dead mother you’ll starve. I’m 
just going to take you home and give you some 
warm milk.” 

He deposited his burden gently in the stern of 
the Dot and pushed off. The little seal was 
shivering with fear. 



The seal pup struggled to be free 
But only wasted breath, 

For Cookie knew his fate would be 
To slowly starve to death. 

Watty. 


Chapter XVIII 


HE afternoon was hot and sultry with 



1 scarcely a breath of air. Anyone more 
weatherwise than Wallace Thayer might have 
expected thunder squalls, but as he stood on the 
Ocean House pier with Georgina, surveying a 
new canvas-covered cedar canoe, he only noticed 
that the bay was unusually calm. 

‘‘She is a perfect beauty!” exclaimed Georgina. 

“Isn’t she!” replied Wallace. “I’m glad I 
thought of getting her. Fortunately I am a little 
better in a canoe than in a row boat!” 

Together they carried the canoe to the float 
and launched her carefully. Wallace seated 
himself in the stern and Georgina in the bow. 
It was Georgina’s first experience at a paddle, 
but a few simple directions will make a good 


146 Watty & Co. 

bow paddler. Skill and experience are needed 
in the stern, for it is the stern paddle that steers 
and keeps the course straight. 

Georgina was delighted with the swift and 
easy motion. ‘‘It’s much better than rowing!” 
she cried, “and not half as hard work. You can 
see where you’re going, too! I tell you what let’s 
do! Let’s paddle out to Ledge Lighthouse and 
visit the keeper! It’s not too far, is it.^” 

Wallace shaded his eyes and looked over the 
calm water to the white shaft of the solitary 
lighthouse that marked a dangerous ledge in the 
path of the coastwise trade. “It’s about five 
miles, I guess; we could make it in less than an 
hour, and I don’t believe we shall ever have a 
better chance; it’s seldom as calm as this. I’m 
game.” 

But distances are deceptive on the water; an 
hour passed and they were still some little dis- 
tance from the lighthouse. They were so near, 



Oh, Wallace, in your frail canoe 
Be very careful what you do. 

Remember that the water’s wet, 

You’d find it so if you upset. 

And then your yellow gloves would shrink. 
Your straw hat ruined by the drink; 

But you have nerve. You’ll carry through 
Whate’er you undertake to do. 


Watty. 


148 fVatty & Co. 

however, that they kept on and in another 
fifteen minutes they were alongside. 

The white shaft rose sheer from the water, 
though ugly-looking tide swirls around its base 
indicated how shoal the water was. The en- 
trance could be reached only by an iron ladder. 

Wallace hailed, “Hello, the lighthouse!” There 
was no answer. He tried again, still without an 
answer. 

“Listen!” said Georgina, “I hear something. 
There it is again!” 

It sounded surprisingly like a groan. Their 
faces paled. “I’m going to see what the trouble 
is,” said Wallace. 

He fastened the painter of the canoe to the 
lowest rung of the iron ladder. “You stay here, 
George.” 

“Indeed I’ll not!” answered Georgina reso- 
lutely, and she followed Wallace closely up the 
ladder. 



Three cheers for George! We never knew 
A girl with so much pluck as you; 

And as we know that will annoy 
We’ll add you’re better than a boy. 

Through storm, delirium and night 
You kept the lighthouse light alight! 

Watty. 



15 ° Watty & Co. 

They reached the gallery that surrounded the 
shaft well above high water and found the door 
ajar. Trembling a little with excitement and a 
tinge of fear, they pushed it open. 

On an old sofa at one side of the circular room 
lay the keeper, white hair and beard disordered, 
his face flushed with fever. He was moaning 
feebly. 

Georgina advanced without hesitation. ‘‘Oh, 
what is it, please?” she asked quickly. “Can’t 
we help?” 

There was no answer. She placed her hand 
on the hot forehead. 

“I think he is delirious,” she whispered to 
Wallace. “Get some water, please.” 

Wallace filled a glass from a pitcher on a table 
near by, and Georgina forced a little between 
the keeper’s dry lips. He opened his eyes and 
stared unseeingly. 

“The light!” he cried so suddenly that 


Watty & Co. 151 

Georgina and Wallace started. “The light 
must burn to-night!” He attempted to 
rise. 

“Yes,” soothed Georgina, “we shall light 
it for you. Don’t worry.” She forced him 
quietly back. 

The words evidently reached his unconscious 
brain. He closed his eyes. 

“My broken leg!” he moaned feebly. “My 
broken leg.” 

“Oh, Wallace, is his leg broken.^” asked Geor- 
gina anxiously. 

Wallace made a hasty examination. “His 
right one, just above the knee.” 

“Oh, Wallace, I was going to take ‘first aid’ 
last winter, and I put it off until next! Do you 
know anything about it.^” 

Wallace could not prevent a slight smile. “Not 
a thing,” he answered. 

Georgina gave the injured keeper more water. 


152 Watty & Co. 

and moistening her handkerchief, she bathed his 
flushed face. He seemed calmer. 

‘‘We must see if we can light up for him,” 
said Wallace, and they climbed the spiral stairs 
to the lantern loft. 

Walking slowly around the lantern they gazed 
at it in puzzled wonder. Wallace shook his 
head. “I don’t understand it,” he said. 

“It’s something like Cookie’s stove on the 
Skiddadler,” said Georgina doubtfully, “but 
that burns a blue flame, almost invisible.” 

Wallace started. “My word!” he cried, “I 
believe you have hit it! Seel” he continued ex- 
citedly, “here’s the compression pump, and here’s 
the vaporizer. The blue flame strikes the mantle 
up there and that’s what makes the bright white 
light!” 

He unscrewed the Ailing cup and peered into 
the reservoir. “There seems to be plenty of 
oil. Now where’s the alcohol? We have to 


Watty & Co. 153 

heat the vaporizer before we can start the 
pump.” 

“Maybe it’s in this can,” suggested Georgina. 

Wallace unscrewed the cap and smelled it. 

“Right!” he said. “Now we fill the cup 
around the vaporizer with alcohol and light the 
alcohol. That heats the vaporizer.” He filled 
the cup and struck a match. 

When the alcohol flame began to die down 
he seized the air pump connected with the oil 
tank and pumped vigorously. The compression 
forced the oil to the hot vaporizer where it 
turned to gas. The last flicker of the alcohol 
ignited the gas and a small flame appeared. 

Georgina watched it breathlessly and Wallace 
continued to pump. The flame grew larger and 
the lower part of the mantle began to glow. In a 
moment a dazzling white light flashed out and 
almost blinded them. 

“All right as far as it goes,” said Wallace, 


154 Watty & Co. 

‘‘but that compression has got to be kept up all 
night. I should say that the pump would have 
to be worked every hour or so.” 

“All right,” said Georgina calmly, “I’ll stay.” 

“What.^” cried Wallace. 

“Yes,” continued Georgina, “don’t you see 
it’s the only thing to do? We can’t both stay 
for mother would almost die of anxiety, and I 
can’t manage the canoe alone. I’ll be perfectly 
safe. You paddle back and tell mother. Then 
you can telephone the nearest lighthouse station, 
get somebody to relieve me and come back in 
the hotel launch. You ought to get here by ten 
o’clock.” 

“My word!” said Wallace, “you certainly 
have nerve for a — ” 

“Stop,” cried Georgina, “don’t say ‘for a girl!’ 
Nothing exasperates me so!” 

“All right!” conceded Wallace. “I’ll say you 
have the nerve of Watty, Lanky and Cookie — 


fVatty & Co. 155 

and even myself — all put together!” and he 
grinned. 

Georgina laughed. ‘^That’s better,” she said. 
“Now you must hurry, for if you’re not back 
soon I may fall asleep at the — at the — ” 

“At the switch,” concluded Wallace. “If 
fast paddling will do it. I’ll be back by nine!” 

They descended the winding stairs to the lower 
level. The keeper was muttering weakly: “The 
light must burn! I must light the light!” 

Georgina held the glass to his lips and laid 
her cool hand on his head. “It’s all right,” she 
said; “you mustn’t worry. I’m going to stay 
here and keep the light burning brightly all 
night.” 

Delirious as he was the words seemed to calm 
him, for he ceased muttering. 

Georgina accompanied Wallace to the outside 
gallery. 

“My word!” exclaimed Wallace, “how dark 


156 Watty & Co. 

it’s getting and it’s only six o’clock.” He glanced 
to the west where a low-lying bank of black 
cloud obscured the sun. ‘‘Going to rain,” he 
said. “Never mind, George, I’ll go through 
water while you’re attending to the fire. The 
devouring elements have no terrors for us! 
Good-bye!” he said gaily, and started paddling 
swiftly away. 

Georgina watched him through the dusk and 
then entered the lighthouse, and slowly climbed 
to her post by the big lantern. 


Chapter XIX' 

W allace had not paddled far before he 
discovered that there was a strong tide 
against him, and a hasty calculation told him 
that it would be four hours before slack water. 
The black clouds were coming nearer, too, and 
he could hear the rumbling of thunder. Things 
were beginning to look serious. 

He glanced back over his shoulder. The light 
was burning brightly at least. He bent doggedly 
to his task, but his progress was painfully slow. 

It was dark now and his back and arms began 
to ache. The air was close and oppressive and 
the surrounding water looked black and oily. 

Presently Wallace was aware of a new sound 
from the west, a low, whistling moan, ominous 
and menacing. He gave a startled glance. Be- 
tween him and the western shore showed a livid 
157 


158 Watty & Co. 

line of white that spread as he looked until it 
seemed to cover the entire face of the water. 

‘‘A white squall!” he gasped, and almost before 
the words were out of his mouth the shrieking 
wind struck him, white rushing water was on all 
sides, a flying cloud of spray drenched him, the 
canoe careened drunkenly and water began to 
pour in over the rail. 

With a desperate lunge he threw his whole 
weight on the paddle. It snapped in his hands. 
He flung himself forward, face down in the canoe, 
and reached the paddle Georgina had left in the 
bow. It was floating in four inches of water. 

Seizing it he knelt in the bottom of the canoe 
to keep his weight low. 

At any rate, he was still afloat and his last 
stroke had accomplished its purpose; the canoe 
had turned stern to the wind, but he was drifting 
at a tremendous speed away from the Point. 

The frightful velocity of the first gust had 


Watty & Co. 159 

passed, but the wind still whistled and roared, 
whipping off the tops of a rapidly rising sea, 
and whirling them horizontally over the surface 
in a stinging spray. 

Wallace’s one effort was to keep the canoe from 
broaching to. He strained with every remaining 
ounce of strength at the paddle as the following 
waves lifted the canoe on high and hurled her 
forward through the roaring chaos. 

There was a blinding flash of lightening, an 
ear-splitting crash of thunder, something tore 
through the stern of the canoe, and Wallace 
found himself struggling in the water, entangled 
with a splintered wreck of canvas-covered wood. 
Two strong hands seized him under the arms, 
lifted him, and dropped him in the bottom of a 
dory, smelling most evilly of fish. He rested 
his head against the rail, choking and gasping 
for breath. 

The wind ceased abruptly and the rain began 


i6o fVatty & Co. 

to fall in torrents, flattening the waves as if by 
magic. Far away, blurred by the rain, shone a 
bright point of light. “Snappy work! Good for 
you, Georgina!” murmured Wallace. 

Then he looked at his rescuer. Even in the 
dark he recognized La Roche. “Hello, Pierre,” 
said Wallace, “// fait la belle nuity n^est-ce pasV’* 
He was not at all sure of his French gram- 
mar. 

monsieur replied La Roche, and Wal- 
lace could just make out his friendly smile. 
Then Pierre did a most surprising thing. Draw- 
ing his knife from the thigh pocket of his sodden 
overalls, he threw it with all his strength into 
the rain-washed night. Then he turned to Wal- 
lace, spread his hands and shrugged his shoulders, 
evidently indicating that any feeling of enmity 
was a thing of the past — done with forever. 

Levoild!^^ said La Roche. 

Mon mot!^^ said Wallace, using a literal 


Watty & Co. i6i 

translation of his favorite expression the better 
to do honour to the occasion. 

4 : 4 : * 4 : ^ ^ 4 : 

Mr. Arthur sat up late that night smoking his 
calabash and reading before the fire. The boys 
had gone to bed shortly after the squall, lulled 
to sleep by the rain drumming on the roof. 

Mr. Arthur’s head was nodding over his book 
when he was abruptly roused to wakefulness by a 
loud knock at the door. Visions of his own ship- 
wreck flashed through his mind as he leaped to 
his feet. The door burst open and La Roche 
entered half carrying Wallace, who was almost 
exhausted. 

“What’s up.^” demanded Mr. Arthur. 

“Mees Hardy,” replied the fisherman, “Ma- 
dame Hardy she ask me to see is Mees Hardy 
here.” 

Quick anxiety showed in Mr. Arthur’s face. 



Pierre was, with a temper hot, 
Too ready with his knife. 

But we forgave, likewise forgot 
When he saved Wally’s life. 

Watty. 


Watty & Co. 163 

“It’s all right, Mr. Arthur,” said Wallace reas- 
suringly, “George is at the Ledge Lighthouse.” 

“What!” cried Mr. Arthur. 

Wallace explained the situation rapidly. 

“Hello, boys!” called Mr. Arthur up the 
stairs. “Wake up! Another rescue!” 

The boys tumbled out of bed, and threw on 
their clothes. 

“Rescuing people in distress is becoming mo- 
notonous!” exclaimed Lanky, as he came down- 
stairs half dressed with the rest of his clothes 
over his arm. “Who is it this time?” 

“George,” replied Mr. Arthur, and “Watty, 
I think Wallace’s hands need first aid!” 

Wallace looked at his hands in surprise. The 
palms were torn and bleeding, the result of 
several hours of extremely hard work at the 
paddle. 

“My word!” said he, “I never noticed them! 
I’ve ruined my gloves!” 


164 Watty & Co. 

But he would not take the time to have his 
hands bandaged then. ‘‘We must hurry out to 
George first,” he said. 

Lanky generously oflfered to row back with 
his former enemy, La Roche, and relieve Mrs. 
Hardy’s anxiety. The others started for the 
lighthouse in the Skiddadler. Watty took his 
first-aid kit and dressed Wallace’s hands in the 
cabin by the light of the swinging lamp, while 
Cookie at the helm headed for the light. For- 
tunately the rain had stopped and a light off- 
shore breeze followed the squall. 


Chapter XX 


G eorge was lonely, and when the squall 
struck, frightened. The wind howled 
screaming around the lighthouse and the flying 
spray beat against the glass. ‘‘Like the fingers 
of ghosts tapping the pane,” thought Georgina, 
and quickly put away the gruesome thought. 

Two hours had passed before the squall struck 
so she did not worry about Wallace. She felt 
sure he had reached the Point by that time. 

At about three o’clock she began to feel a little 
worried and she was so sleepy that it almost 
hurt. She sat down by the light and her eyelids 
dropped lower and lower. 

There was a wild shriek from below and 
Georgina leaped to her feet, every nerve tingling 
with fright. 

“The light!” screamed the voice, “the light! 
165 


1 66 Watty & Co. 

I MUST LIGHT THE LIGHT!” the shriek rose 
in an ear-splitting frenzy. 

Georgina flew down the spiral stairs. The old 
keeper was struggling to rise. She seized him 
by the shoulders. 

‘‘Listen,” she said distinctly, “the light is 
burning! I am going to keep it burning all 
night. Don’t worry,” she insisted, “it is all 
right! 

As before her voice seemed to reach his inner 
consciousness and he sank feebly back, but 
Georgina was almost unnerved by the sudden 
shock. However, she was wide awake now. 

When she climbed up to the loft again she 
was horrified to find the light was burning dimly. 
She seized the pump and the light brightened for 
a moment and fell again. Again she worked the 
pump and the same thing happened. 

“Oh,” cried Georgina, “the oil is giving out!” 
She did not dare to look for more oil. She knew 


Watty & Co. 167 

that the pressure would be lost if she took off 
the cap to refill the reservoir, and that the light 
would go out. She pumped continuously, but in 
spite of her efforts the flame fell lower and lower. 
Every muscle in her body seemed to ache. Would 
daylight never come.^ A faint glimmer appeared 
in the east; at the same moment the light gave 
one final flicker and died out completely. 

Georgina was conscious that her work was 
over but she felt no elation. She had never been 
so tired in her life. She went slowly down the 
stairs and out on the gallery into the morning air. 

Not a hundred yards away was the Skiddadler, 
a small wave curling under her bow, bearing 
directly toward the lighthouse. Georgina sank 
on the platform and tears of relief came to her 
eyes. 

Her uncle was the first up the ladder. He 
lifted her in his arms and held her close. “Oh, 
Uncle Dick,” she whispered brokenly, “I thought 


1 68 Watty & Co. 

no one would ever come!’’ and she buried her 
face in his shoulder. 

Her uncle held her closer. ‘‘Georgina,” he said 
seriously, “you are a brave girl, and I’m mighty 
proud of you. It was a plucky thing to do.” 
He talked to her quietly until she became calmer, 
but even then she kept tight hold of her uncle’s 
hand as if afraid that he might leave her. 

In the meantime Watty had examined the 
keeper’s broken leg. He diagnosed it as a simple 
fracture, but he was unable to determine whether 
the patient’s high fever was a result of the in- 
jury or not. He broke a wooden box and, using 
pieces for splints, he set the leg carefully. 

They were all gathered around the sofa talk- 
ing in whispers, trying to decide what they 
should do with the invalid, when a steamer siren 
sounded close at hand. 

“Hello!” exclaimed Watty, going out to the 
gallery. “It’s a lighthouse tender, the Geranium.” 


Watty & Co. 169 

‘‘Good enough,” said Mr. Arthur; “that ends 
our responsibility.” 

The steamer approached as closely as the 
ledge would permit. Then her engine-room bell 
sounded, her propeller stopped and with dimin- 
ishing headway she came within hailing dis- 
tance. 

“Ahoy, the lighthouse!” roared an angry voice 
from the bridge. 

“On board the Geranium!” hailed Watty, 
somewhat surprised at the tone. 

“What the mischief do you mean by dimming 
your light just before morning.^” continued the 
irate voice. 

“Better come and investigate!” replied Watty 
with a grin, as the humor of the situation began 
to dawn on him. 

“Pll do more than investigate!” threatened 
the captain, and they could hear him order a 
boat lowered from the davits. 


17 ° Watty & Co. 

The whole party gathered to meet the captain 
as he mounted the ladder. 

“What is this.^’’ snapped the officer, “a pic- 
nic?” 

“It is not!” said Mr. Arthur shortly, “your 
keeper broke his leg and is in a delirium; a fifteen- 
year-old girl has been tending the light alone 
all night.” 

“What?” cried the captain in an altered voice. 
“I beg your pardon, Vm sure. I apologize — 
apologize humbly. Is this the young lady?” He 
grasped Georgina’s hand in a grip that numbed 
her arm to the shoulder. 

“You must thank Wallace too,” said Georgina. 

“I’m going to shake hands with the whole 
crew,” roared the captain, but in a vastly dif- 
ferent roar this time. “Which is Wallace?” 

Wallace hastily put his injured hands behind 
his back. “Excuse me, please, and take it out 
on the others!” he said. 



The captain he was mad clean through, 
He could have bitten nails in two; 
But when he found how matters stood 
He turned as quickly as he could, 
And when his senses he had found 
He begged our pardon all around. 

Watty. 



172 Watty & Co. 

“Oh, Wallace, what did you do to your hands?” 
cried Georgina. “Pm awfully sorry! Did you 
have trouble getting ashore.^” 

‘‘Some,” replied Wallace with a smile. 

The captain went in to examine the keeper’s 
condition. He inspected the bandaged leg criti- 
cally. “Who’s your doctor.^” he asked. 

Mr. Arthur indicated Watty. 

The officer insisted upon shaking hands with 
Watty again. 

“We get lots of experience with broken limbs 
in this pestiferous service and I never saw a 
broken leg better fixed!” 

The captain went outside and hailed his boat 
crew. “Hello, below! Get a cot and tackle to 
lower a man with a broken leg. Johnson!” 

“Aye, aye, sir!” 

“Get your dunnage and take charge of the 
light. Bring Tomlinson with you.” 

Johnson grinned broadly. The easy service of 


Watty & Co. 173 

lighthouse keeper for a week or so appealed to 
him. 

“Now,” said the captain, “I’ll take you people 
anywhere you want to go in the Geranium.” 

“Never mind,” said Mr. Arthur, “we’ll sail 
back in the knockabout.” 

“Well, at least you must take breakfast on the 
Geranium with me before you start,” urged the 
captain, and they were very glad to accept. 

“Tending lighthouse all night without supper 
is hungry work,” sighed Georgina. She was at 
the captain’s right hand, and the officer could 
hardly take his admiring eyes from her. He did 
most of the talking himself so as to relieve her 
from the duties of keeping up her end, and he 
assured her that “the Department would hear 
of her gallant service.” 

During the meal the captain explained one 
thing that had been puzzling Watty and Mr. 
Arthur. Both of them knew that it was unusual 


174 Watty & Co. 

for one man to be in charge of an important 
isolated lighthouse, and Watty had known per- 
sonally the two men in charge the previous year. 

“This man who broke his leg,” said the cap- 
tain, “is trustworthy but a hard one to live with, 
morose and has a bad temper. I suspect the 
assistant just helped himself to the dory — I see 
it’s gone — and took French leave. In fact he 
threatened to do so on my last trip here, but 
I was not able to replace him at the time. I’ll 
have to discharge him if he should show up 
again.” 

Georgina smiled sleepily as the Skiddadler 
moved off, and immediately went sound asleep 
on her uncle’s shoulder. 

Even the three blasts from the steamer’s horn in 
salute did not rouse her, but Watty returned the 
courtesy by dipping the yacht ensign three times. 

Mrs. Hardy and Lanky were waiting on the 
dock. 


Chapter XXI 


M r. Arthur and the boys were sitting on 
the wharf at the island several days after 
Georgina’s experience as a lighthouse keeper. It 
was one of those days that come occasionally 
in late August and frequently in September, cool 
in the northwest breeze but warm in the sun. 

It was drawing close to the end of their sum- 
mer vacation, for although school did not open 
until the middle of September they were due at 
Exeter on the first for early football practice. As 
Watty was captain of the team there was no 
escape. 

Cookie was feeding the baby seal with warm, 
diluted, condensed milk, and the captive ate 
greedily, apparently without the least fear of the 
boys. When the last drop was gone he went 

175 


1/6 fVatty & Co. 

comfortably to sleep in the box Cookie had pre- 
pared for him. 

“What are you going to do with him when 
we leave?” asked Watty. 

“Let him go, I think. I don’t want to keep 
him in captivity.” 

“Do you believe he’s old enough to take care 
of himself?” inquired Mr. Arthur. 

“I guess so. He ate one of the mackerel 
Pierre brought a few days ago, in place of the 
usual clams, and he seemed to like it.” 

“What did you say you had named him?” 
asked Lanky. 

“Holluschickie,” replied Cookie. “That’s what 
Kipling calls young seals in his story ‘The White 
Seal.’” 

“Holluschickie is plural,” objected Lanky. 
“You ought to call him Holluschicken.” 

“Why not Young Hollus for short?” suggested 
Watty. “Do you know what I think?” he con- 


Watty & Co. 177 

tinned, “I don’t believe you’ll get rid of him 
easily. He isn’t going to be quick about leaving 
a good place where he is comfortable and well 
fed.” 

‘‘Let’s try it when he wakes up,” said Lanky. 

“By the way. Lanky, how did you and your 
friend La Roche get along the other night?” 
asked Mr. Arthur. 

“Like ducks in a puddle! I thought he was 
going to embrace me in true French fashion when 
we parted, but I side-stepped. Sadie May was 
waiting on the dock for him. He did embrace 
her.” 

“They are engaged,” said Cookie. 

“By Jove! is that so?” exclaimed Mr. Arthur. 
He seemed to have an idea, and after thinking 
a while he went into the house and wrote a 
letter, addressing it to Washington, D. C. 
Shortly he called Watty in consultation. 

“Great!” said Watty enthusiastically, “per- 


1/8 Watty & Co. 

fectly splendid. That will take care of Luther 
White as long as he lives. I think an eighteen- 
foot motor dory would be the best boat, and we 
ought to be able to pick one up at Boothbay 
Harbor.’^ 

Mr. Arthur and Watty joined the others. 
‘‘Watty and I have been hatching a conspiracy,” 
explained Mr. Arthur, “and we are not going to 
divulge the plot until success is assured. Then 
we shall take you both into our confidence. Our 
plans involve an immediate trip to Boothbay. 

“And another thing I want to ask you all. 
Do you think it would be possible to engage, not 
a hundred miles from here, a crew to sail the 
Petrel to Boston, with Mrs. Hardy, Miss Hardy, 
Wallace Thayer and myself on board Mr. 
Arthur looked at Watty. “I want a skipper;” 
then he looked at Cookie, “and a cook, and a — 
a cabin boy,” he finished, looking at Lanky. 

“Great!” said Watty. 


179 


Watty & Co. 

“Bully!” said Cookie. 

“What are the duties of a cabin boy?” asked 
Lanky suspiciously. 

“Why — er — entertaining the ladies,” replied 
Mr. Arthur. 

“Count me in; entertainment is my middle 
name!” said Lanky with a grin. 

“Fine!” exclaimed Mr. Arthur, “that will give 
my vacation a strong finish.” 

They sailed over to the Point in the Skiddadler 
taking Young Hollus with them. They had de- 
cided to let him go in the open for fear he might 
not find the narrow channel leading from the 
harbor if released at the island. 

In the middle of the bay Cookie bade him a 
fond farewell and dropped him over the rail. 
For a moment Young Hollus swam frantically 
after the boat, but the wind was fresh and he 
soon gave up the unequal race. He sank below 
the water and disappeared from view. “Good- 


i8o Watty & Co. 

bye, Young Hollus!” called Cookie regret- 
fully. 

On the Ocean House dock was a stranger 
dressed like a chauffeur who saluted Mr. Arthur 
respectfully. “Hello, Louis,” said Mr. Arthur, 
“glad to see you; which car did you bring 

“The runabout, m’sieu,” replied the chauffeur. 

“Good!” commented Mr. Arthur. “Well, 
Watty, as soon as we have interviewed Luther 
and verified Cookie’s report about Sadie May, I 
think we had better start for Boothbay. To 
allay any fears you may have Louis will tell you 
that I am better at the wheel of a car than at 
the wheel of a boat!” 

A little later Cookie and Lanky watched them 
start in a beautiful high-powered, low-hung car 
of foreign make. Cookie gasped at the speed of 
their disappearance. Mr. Arthur was driving 
with Watty at his side and Louis clinging to the 
rumble behind. A cloud of dust followed them. 


Watty & Co. i8i 

“Did you know he had sent for a car?’’ Cookie 
asked Lanky. 

“Sure,” replied Lanky, “and now, while they 
are away on their mysterious business, let’s do 
a little plotting of our own. I’m some little con- 
spirator when I get started; Machiavelli had 
nothing on me. Hist!” Lanky went through 
the motions of pulling down an imaginary hat 
and looked to left and right, “are we alone?” 

“No,” whispered Cookie hoarsely, “there are 
two of us!” 

Lanky grabbed Cookie’s shoulder and said 
rapidly, his mouth close to Cookie’s ear, “Meet 
me in the grotto at midnight! Bring the forged 
papers and the chee — ild! If you succeed I 
will reward you well, but if you fail — ” 
Lanky’s voice changed, and he curled an imagi- 
nary moustache airily, “You know my hasty 
tempah!” 

Georgina and Wallace came toward them from 


i 82 fVatty & Co. 

the hotel. “What’s the matter now?” asked 
Wallace. 

Lanky looked at him fiercely. “The chee — 
ild!” he hissed. “Where is the chee — ild?” 

“The child is in London!” replied Wallace, 
catching on immediately, “ and I have the papers. 
The old nurse has told all and Sir de Cookie’s 
villainy is revealed.” 

“All is lost!” groaned Cookie and he staggered 
in despair. 

“Hah!” cried Lanky, “give me the papers and 
tear up the chee — ild.” 

“Stop this nonsense,” laughed Georgina, “and 
come to lunch with us.” 

Lanky’s tragic manner relaxed at the mention 
of food, and they walked to the hotel. 

“What do you think!” said Georgina, as they 
sat down at the table, “Uncle Dick has asked 
Mother, Wallace and me to sail to Boston with 
him in the Petrel!” 


Watty & Co. 183 

‘‘That’s only if he can find a crew, Georgina,” 
reminded Mrs. Hardy. 

Cookie and Lanky exchanged glances. “The 
crew is found,” laughed Lanky, “behold the cook 
and the cabin boy; Watty is the skipper.” 

“Really.^” cried Georgina. “Hooray. Won’t 
it be great! I speak to be an able-bodied sea- 
man.” 

“You can attend to the lights, George,” said 
Lanky, “you’re good at that!” 

“Let’s sail out to the Ledge and call on John- 
son and his assistant, and then have supper on 
the island,” invited Cookie. 

Mrs. Hardy agreed and suggested that they 
take out some books and magazines to the men. 

“I have only two books — David Copperfield 
and — and Little Women; do you think they 
would care for them.^” asked Georgina. 

“Fine!” replied Lanky, “Little Women is just 
the book for strong, seafaring men. I myself 


184 Watty & Co. 

frequently read passages of it with one hand 
while hauling lobster pots with the other.’’ 

‘‘Which hand do you read with?” inquired 
Wallace politely. 

“Why — why, either hand,” replied Lanky, giving 
“either” the English pronunciation, “eyether.” 

“I apologize for my feeble-minded friend, Mrs. 
Hardy,” said Cookie seriously, “sometimes his 
jokes are poor, but for pure foolishness his last 
attempt is about the worst. Let’s start for the 
lighthouse immediately. The fresh air may cool 
his brain.” 

There was a good breeze blowing from the 
northwest and a choppy sea made it a little more 
difficult to get to the ladder from the tossing 
pumpkin seed than it had been on Georgina’s 
first visit, but she managed it almost as easily 
as the boys. 

The two men greeted them heartily and rigged 
a bosun’s chair for Mrs. Hardy. A bosun’s chair 


Watty & Co. 185 

is a board seat like the seat of a swing, rigged 
on a block and tackle. In this case the tackle 
was run through one of the davits from which 
the lighthouse dory used to swing before the 
deserting assistant keeper had taken it. Mrs. 
Hardy was pulled up with a ‘‘Yo heave ho!” 
amid great merriment. 

Georgina showed her mother all over the living 
apartments on the first two levels and the lan- 
tern in the loft. The two men from the Geran- 
ium had put the place in true ship-shape order. 
Everything was neat as wax, and in the bright 
sunlight with the two smiling keepers and her 
mother for company, and the laughter of the 
boys below instead of delirious yells, the light- 
house seemed a very comfortable place — vastly 
different from the night of the shrieking squall. 

After a visit of about an hour they set sail for 
the island. Cookie told Georgina of Young 
Hollus’s release. 


i86 


Watty & Co. 

“Well,” sighed Georgina, “I’m sorry, but I 
am glad I saw him yesterday. I do hope he 
will be able to look out for himself. And,” she 
continued brightly, “maybe he will come to call 
on you sometimes next summer!” 

“Perhaps he will wear a high hat and send in 
his card,” laughed Cookie. 

“We’ll give a reception in his honor,” added 
Lanky. 

When they were furling the Skiddadler’s sails 
in the island harbor, Wallace happened to glance 
toward the dock. “My word!” he exclaimed, 
“look who’s here!” 

Everybody looked. At the end of the dock 
regarding them expectantly was Young Hollus! 

Cookie sat down. “Well,” he gasped, “in 
the words of the immortal Mr. Hobbs, I am 
jiggered!” 

They greeted the returned seal enthusiastically 
and fed him until it was a wonder he didn’t burst 


Watty & Co. 187 

wide open. He seemed to swell before their eyes. 
When they went to the cabin to prepare their 
own supper he waddled after them and lay on 
the doorstep while they ate. 

‘H wish we could take him back to Exeter 
with us,” said Lanky, ‘‘he would look so cute 
following us to class. Maybe he could play on 
the football team; he would win the swimming 
championship, anyway!” 

“There’s nothing to do but to leave him here,” 
sighed Cookie. “If he will not rejoin his aunts 
and uncles and cousins maybe Pierre La Roche 
will take care of him for us.” He tossed a piece 
of bread to Young Hollus who caught it deftly 
in his mouth. 

“When is Uncle Dick coming back?” asked 
Georgina, reminded of her own relative by 
Cookie’s remark. 

“Ought to be here by day after to-morrow, 
anyway, if he returns as fast as he left,” replied 


1 88 Watty & Co. 

Lanky. ^‘That would give him a whole day to 
transact his business in Boothbay, and if we in- 
tend to be in Boston on the thirty-first we ought 
to start the day after he gets back.” 

“Let’s have a grand party the night before 
we leave,” said Cookie. “I suggest an old-time 
clambake here on the island, and we’ll invite 
Luther, Sadie, Bob, Pierre, and one of the men 
from the lighthouse.” 

“I think that would be a splendid idea!” ex- 
claimed Mrs. Hardy. “I have not been to a real 
clambake since I was a girl, and Georgina has 
never been to one.” 

“Same here,” added Wallace. 

“Clambake it is then,” decided Cookie. 

“Alas,” sighed Lanky, “’tis e’en a back- 
breaking task extricating the sportive and agile 
clam from his happy home.” 

“Just how do you get them.?” inquired Wal- 
lace. 


189 


Watty & Co. 

“The easiest way is to climb the clam tree 
and shake them down,” replied Lanky, “but it’s 
apt to break their shells. The best way is to 
go to the clam orchard at night and spread a 
thick floor of cotton batting on the ground to 
soften it. Then throw a searchlight on the 
clams and under its rays they ripen quickly and 
drop. You pick them up carefully by the tail 
so they can’t bite you and put them in a basket.” 

“I see,” said Wallace gravely. 


Chapter XXII 


T he next day Lanky and Cookie were very 
busy preparing for the clambake. They 
already had enough lobsters on hand and early 
in the morning, when the tide was low, they 
sailed over to the clam flats on the mainland to 
dig the clams. It was hard, backbreaking work, 
as Lanky has said, but in two hours they had a 
bushel and a half. 

In the afternoon they gathered large stones and 
placed them in a solid circle about ten feet in 
diameter under the high cliff where Cookie had 
caught Young Hollus. Then they collected an 
enormous pile of driftwood, half to heat the 
stones for the clambake and half for a camp fire. 

The next morning they sailed to the Point 
again to invite Luther and his family and La 

Roche. They found Luther and Pierre putting 
190 


Watty & Co. 191 

the finishing touches on the Petrel and both of 
them accepted the boys’ invitation with evident 
pleasure, and Pierre readily consented to sail 
the Petrel and all the guests over to the island 
early in the afternoon. 

The boys purchased four large watermelons 
and three dozen ears of sweet corn and sailed 
out to the Ledge Lighthouse. Both of the keep- 
ers wanted to come,' so they drew lots and John- 
son won. Lanky had bought a box of cigars for 
the loser, so the assistant keeper was almost 
happy to stay on duty alone for the evening. 

They took Johnson back to the island, and im- 
mediately after lunch he helped them carry their 
supplies to the western point and build the fire 
over the circle of rocks. The fire had to be kept 
going all the afternoon so that the rocks would 
be nearly red hot by evening. 

The Petrel arrived early and Pierre joined the 
boys and Johnson in gathering wet seaweed. 


192 Watty & Co. 

while the others played with Young Hollus and 
roamed about the island. Small Bob was par- 
ticularly delighted with the Crow’s Nest and 
kept climbing up and down recklessly greatly to 
the alarm of Mrs. Hardy and Sadie. 

At half past five Watty and Mr. Arthur had 
not appeared and Cookie decided to wait no 
longer. The coals were raked off the hot stones 
and a layer of wet seaweed spread on. The lob- 
sters were laid on the seaweed — twelve in all — 
and another layer of seaweed spread. The clams 
and corn were then thrown on and covered 
with the last of the seaweed. An enormous 
cloud of steam and smoke arose in the still 
air. 

The column of smoke, visible at a great dis- 
tance, was easily seen from an eighteen-foot 
motor dory about to enter the channel leading 
into the island harbor. Mr. Arthur pointed it 
out to Watty who changed the dory’s course, 


Watty & Co. 193 

and the party gathered around the fire could 
hear the chug-chug of the engine before the boat 
cleared the point. 

Cookie and Lanky ran to a flat, seaweed- 
covered rock at the edge of the calm water. 
‘‘Right here!’’ they called, and the engine 
stopped, reversed, and the bow of the dory 
bumped gently into the spot indicated. Watty 
jumped out, painter in hand. Mr. Arthur rose 
from his place by the engine. 

Everybody gathered around and Sadie gasped 
with astonishment. On each side of the dory’s 
bow in raised gold letters was the name “Sadie 
May.” 

Mr. Arthur raised his arm in a gesture for at- 
tention. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, 
“unaccustomed as I am to public speaking, 
the honor on this auspicious occasion has been 
forced upon me. Permit me to say that it has 
never before been my privilege to face an au- 



It surely was some happy night, 
Take it from me, my boy! 
Sadie, Pierre and Luther White 
Were overwhelmed with joy. 

Watty. 


Watty & Co. 195 

dience whose faces expressed so much beauty, 
intelligence and ah — er — curiosity!” 

“Hear! Hear!” cried Lanky. 

“In a short time I shall endeavor to allay that 
curiosity, but first permit me to refer to one of 
your number individually. There is among you 
one whose hair has been sprinkled with the snow 
of many honorable winters; one who by patient 
industry and kindliness has won the affection of 
all who know him. I refer to our respected and 
revered friend, Luther White!” 

Luther’s jaw dropped with a click — Lanky 
swore he heard it — and his mouth remained 
open. 

“I have here,” Mr. Arthur resumed, drawing 
an official-looking envelope from his pocket, 
“a letter from a friend of mine, close to my heart 
but distant in location, who holds a position 
high in government circles. This letter advises 
me that my recommendation of Luther White 


196 Watty & Co. 

as keeper of Ledge Light will be approved by the 
fifteenth of September.” 

Luther’s mouth closed and a look of beaming 
happiness dawned on his weathered face. 

‘‘The letter further advises,” continued Mr. 
Arthur, “that my other recommendation of 
Monsieur Pierre La Roche as assistant light 
keeper will also be approved and ratified.” 

It was Pierre’s turn to look incredulous and 
happy. To Luther the appointment meant a 
comfortable livelihood; to Pierre it meant that 
and much more — Sadie! His marriage had been 
indefinitely arranged for the remote day when he 
would be able to take care of her. Now he 
could marry immediately — Sadie’s hand stole 
into his — he would! He could not believe the 
astonishing news! 

But more was to come. “In order that Pierre 
may eke out the meagre pay of assistant keeper 
by daily attending to a long line of prolific lob- 


197 


fVatty & Co. 

ster pots, we present the bride and groom to be 
with this noble bark, the Sadie May!” Mr. 
Arthur jumped ashore. 

Lanky could contain himself no longer. He 
waved his arms in the familiar signals of a cheer 
leader. ‘^Long cheer for Mr. Arthur!” he yelled. 
‘^One! two! three!” down flashed his arms in a 
measured frenzy. 

‘‘Exeter! Exeter! Exeter!” roared the boys, 
supported by Georgina and Wallace. 

“Rah! rah! rah! 

Rah! rah! rah! 

Rah! rah! rah! 

Mr. Arthur! Mr. Arthur! MR. ARTHUR!” 

* :|t * ♦ ♦ * * 

As Lanky expressed it later the clambake was 
party.” It surely was. 

Everybody was happy. Never had steamed 
clams, corn and lobsters tasted so good; never 


19S Watty & Co. 

was watermelon so delicious. Mr. Arthur, a 
millionaire, was talking and laughing with the 
lighthouse keeper and Pierre La Roche as though 
they were college classmates; Mrs. Hardy was 
deep in conversation with Luther. Lanky was 
pretending to be Sadie’s rejected suitor, contem- 
plating suicide, presumably by eating too many 
clams. 

When the serious business of eating was over 
the camp fire was started and they sat in a circle, 
singing. Johnson obliged with a deep-sea chantey 
and danced a sailor’s hornpipe on a flat rock 
amid tumultuous applause. Georgina sang a 
little French song and that encouraged Pierre 
to borrow Lanky’s guitar. 

Pierre had a wonderful voice; in French 
Canadian patois he sang a haunting voyageur 
song of the Canadian woods, an appealing minor 
melody, indescribably sweet. A hushed silence 
better than any applause greeted him. He 


fVatty & Co. 199 

blushed with pleasure when they pressed him 
for more. 

The fire had died to glowing embers when 
Mrs. Hardy rose to leave. Considerable excite- 
ment was caused when Sadie failed to find small 
Bob, but he was finally discovered curled up 
between two rocks with one arm around Young 
Hollus. Both were fast asleep and Young Hollus 
was the only one of the two who awoke on being 
lifted into the motor dory. 

Fortunately Pierre understood a gasolene en- 
gine perfectly and he started off without trouble, 
taking Johnson with him. The boys listened to 
the chug-chug of the motor growing fainter and 
fainter in the distance, and then turned their 
steps toward the harbor and the Skiddadler 
almost with a feeling of melancholy. 

But melancholy never lasted with the Tri- 
umvirate, and when they embarked in the Skid- 
dadler their spirits returned. 


200 Watty & Co. 

Georgina was wistful. ‘‘I don’t think I ever 
had such a good time before, this summer has 
been perfectly wonderful!” 

‘‘Never mind, George,” said her uncle, “we 
still have several days on the Petrel. We’ll 
bribe Watty to sail us slowly to Boston, and we’ll 
stop every night, anyway; Portland, York Harbor, 
Portsmouth, maybe Gloucester or Marblehead.” 
Georgina cheered up immediately. 

For Wallace’s benefit they sang “Old Andover 
is Champion” (“with reservations,” said Lanky), 
and as they neared the Point, clearly over the 
water floated the words of “Old Exeter”: — 

“Thy name is a talisman banishing care 
And setting good fellowship free, 

Old Exeter, here’s to the glad student days 
That have bound us forever to thee!” 

Then, following a custom which had become 
almost a tradition, Georgina called “Good night!” 
from the end of the dock. The Skiddadler 



“The Petrel,” homeward bound. 


From way Down East we headed west 
With ev’ry sail unfurled, 

And George did wistfully suggest 
We sail around the world. 

But school and football were at hand. 
And then the winter drear. 

We thought weM better stay on land 
BUT MEET AGAIN NEXT YEAR!! 

Watty. 



202 Watty & Co. 

heeled gently to the night breeze on her home- 
ward course. 

“Good night, ladies,’^ sang Watty, Cookie and 
Lanky. 


THE END. 


Printed in the United States of America 


following pages contain advertisements of a 
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